Two Bodies in Denial
by sarramaks
Summary: COMPLETE Fluff with a plot. Booth and Brennan compete against the weather and other factors to catch a killer before another life is taken, and step out of denial of their feelings. Chapter 20 now up completed.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: All characters are the property of Kathy Reichs and Fox TV. They're not mine, and I won't make any money from this - so don't sue!

**A/N: **This is another take on how Booth and Brennan might eventually get together. It might be fairly long (I've planned 21 chapters), a bit angsty in parts, and fluffy in others. It's set anywhere - I'm English and we're a few episodes behind - so I doubt they'll be any spoilers. Chapters are fairly lengthy, and I'll _try_ to update everyday.

Thank you to Transgenic Girl for the inspiration for the title, and to Laura Dugan for beta -ing.

**

* * *

**

**Two Bodies in Denial**

Chapter 1 – A Date

Rain poured heavily down, saturating anything that happened to be unfortunate enough to be outside in it. Large puddles had been created, deepening rapidly as the water pounded, the noise breaking up the otherwise soundless night by its rhythmic drumming on the bonnets of cars, dropping hollowly on the flimsy canopies made by the leaves on trees and soaking anything solid that happened to be in the way, including Agent Seeley Booth.

The day had been almost too warm and the evening had been filled with the type of humidity that made people argumentative and uncomfortable, the atmosphere reaching what felt like breaking point before the skies collapsed with a clap of thunder that had made most sensible people bolt inside and regard the storm from inside dry, air conditioned houses. Booth had not had that luxury.

About the time the first roll of thunder had boomed down from the heavens he had just reached his destination by a river that flowed through the residential outskirts of the city. This stretch was a deep, wide, fast flowing bed of water, surrounded by trees on either side. At the banks it was either rocky or a neat drop in places, the water then staying shallow until it dropped ferociously a couple of meters in. The river then went round a bend and slowed some, providing a place that was popular with fishermen throughout the year. Booth had been fishing there a couple of times himself, although never when it was raining like this.

He had had a call from Cullen two and a half hours ago, asking, or rather instructing, him to go a check out an anonymous tip that had come in about a body being sighted along the banks of the River Huyana. The caller had left few details as to where the body actually was, only that it was emerging out of the soil before the fisherman's bend, and Booth had rapidly come to the conclusion that the call was a hoax and there was no body. He was thinking this for certain when the rain began to fall with greater force and his torch battery died. Also, just to put him in an even better mood, he was wearing a new suit, only picked up from the tailor's two days ago, and it was getting wet, as was his hair and everything else on him. The downpour of rain had quickly drenched through his jacket and shirt, and he figured that having to actually get in the river would make no difference to his appearance.

He walked a little further along the banks of the river, eyes alert for any sign of disrupted earth or strange occurrences and narrowly missing tripping over a thick root that jutted out of the wet soil. No one was around; the weather deterring any lovers from taking an evening stroll down by the river. Booth sighed. Tessa would now be at his house, armed with a bottle of wine and the menu for the local Chinese take-out. She would not be best pleased that he wasn't there, again. He clamped his lips together, the thought of the possible conversation that they would have later distracting him from the rain. He doubted that they would last much longer as a couple. If he was reading the signs correctly – and he was sure that he was as that was part of what he was trained to do – then she'd met someone else; probably someone a lot more reliable, who didn't have to leave in the middle of romantic dinners and wasn't getting soaked walking by a river, looking for a dead body at eight thirty on a Friday evening. Still, that was his job, his career, what he lived to do, almost.

He was interrupted by his thoughts by an unusual sighting on the other side of the river. He was now at the point just before the river bended round and slowed down, widening out and becoming slightly shallower. He drew closer to the banks, mindful of the wet soil on the ground and the possibility of slipping. He squinted, focusing in on the object.

More often than not, Booth did his thinking around the same time as his acting, his brain quickly processing what needed to be done as he was doing it. It had been a useful skill in what he tried to think of as his previous life, as it was proving to be useful now. He made a mental note of what it looked like on the other side of the river and began to run as quickly as he could given the conditions past the fisherman's bend and further up, when the river would become shallow enough to wade across, although given the rain that was adding to its depth and force, it would not be a pleasant task.

He descended down the bank of the river around two miles from where he had seen what looked to be a corpse, holding on to a few rocks that seemed stable enough to take some of his weight. The river, although shallower here, still came up to the top of his thighs and was streaming fast enough to almost knock him off balance. He set his eyes on the opposite bank and waded across, wondering if Cullen would foot the bill for the dry cleaning that would have to be done after this little excursion.

He held his cell phone in his hand, way above the rising water level so it wouldn't get damaged and debated who to take his temper out on first. Cullen would be an obvious first choice, but he was his boss. Rebecca would be the one person he would like to give a few choice words to, be they wouldn't necessarily be about work and wouldn't particularly help his chances of seeing more of Parker. Bones, he thought as he began to scramble up the muddy bank, dragging his legs out of the water and not even contemplating the damage done to his suit. Bones would be the first person to call if this unusual sighting did turn out to be a body, and she would be the one who heard about his heroics, and ruined suit.

He began to run again. From what he had seen, the body was precariously balanced at the side of the bank. Given that the rain was pelting at full force, and that the soil and earth was none too stable, he had to consider the possibility of the body falling into the river. It was a hard two mile run in wet clothes that couldn't possibly be more saturated, but Booth simply focused himself, not even out of breath when he got there.

He edged close to banks, looking across to the opposite side where he had stood twenty minutes ago. He crouched down at the oddity, a thick woollen blanket that looked like it had probably survived the second World War. He took hold of one corner of it, the slimy dampness telling him that it had been there some time, and peeled it away, finding small, too small, bones. A child.

He held his cell phone in his hand and pressed down five to call Brennan. He imagined she would be at the lab still, classifying, microscoping, generally squinting away. There was no answer. He frowned; it was unusual for her not to answer her cell. He tried the lab, at least expecting Zack to pick up the phone, but again, no answer. Booth felt worried. They could always have gone to Wong Foo's, but they didn't usually do that without him, and that wouldn't explain why Bones wasn't answering her cell.

He diverted his thought away from the anthropologist and called in for assistance from the scene of crime people and Cullen. To all appearances this was the remains of a murdered child. The best he could hope for was that someone had developed a liking of grave robbing, a la Burke and Hare, but the niggling voice in the back of his head told him that it was unlikely. He stood up, mindful not to disrupt the body in any way, and also aware of its proximity to the edge of the river. Booth glared at his cell once more and debated calling Angela to see where Bones had gone to. Cursing himself, he found where he had saved her number and dialled.

"Booth?" An unbelieving voice came on the other end of the line, the noise of a bar adding to Booth's annoyance.

"Angela – where's Bones? She's not answering her cell," he said, not in the mood to deal with, well, anything right now. The cold of the river and the rain was now setting in to his bones and he was starting to shiver.

"And here was I thinking that you had called for a friendly chat," Angela answered sarcastically. "She has a date."

Booth fell silent, the temperature ceasing to bother him. Suddenly he felt rather warm. "A date?" He said, not quite sure he wanted to have heard correctly.

"Yes, Booth, a date. With another scientist. A professor from some university who was here today to discuss her co-authoring an article with him," he could easily hear between the words of what Angela was saying. He knew what she meant.

"I need to find her. We have a new case," he almost shouted down the phone.

"I'm not sure where she's gone. I think it was for an Italian, but I don't know which," Angela said. The background noise had diminished and he assumed that she had now gone outside.

"Will she have taken her cell?" He asked, knowing the answer.

"I doubt it. If she had it will be on silent. She won't want to be interrupted while they're taking about neck vertebrates and broken hyoids," Angela replied. "Look, I'll go and have a walk round and see if I can see her in one of the restaurants near where I am."

"Thanks, Ange," he said, feeling the rain get heavier on his back.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Temperance Brennan was enjoying a pleasant evening with a man she deemed to be both attractive and intelligent, and with excellent choice in wine. Dr. Stuart Duggard was well renown in his field of cultural anthropology and so far she was enjoying both the conversation and the physical aspects of the man sat opposite her, eating linguini puttanesca. He had not baffled her with pop culture references, made her feel socially inadequate or called her 'Bones'. She sighed into her wine and wondered what Booth was doing tonight. And then felt shocked that she had actually thought about him while she was on a date with another man.

"Are you alright, Temperance?" Stuart asked her, ceasing his talk about the Trobriand tribe and the female-based roles within it. She realised that she had not heard the last few minutes if what he had been saying, and mentally cursed Seeley Booth.

"I'm fine, Stuart. I think I'm just going to powder my nose," she replied, using the euphemism that Angela had taught her. She left the table, aware of her date's eyes upon her back as she walked away and headed for the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and finger combed her hair and debated adding a touch of lipstick. She liked Stuart and it had been a long time since she had last been on a date, in fact the last man she had been out with had been Michael Stires. Briefly, her mind wandered back to that time and the resulting argument she had had with Booth over what he had said in court. She added the lipstick, safe in the knowledge that Stuart was flying back home tomorrow and there would be no need for any emotional connection between them. He could simply address a need, and, just for a change, she would enjoy a little of what it was like to be Angela.

She exited the bathrooms and walked back into the restaurant, sitting down in her seat near the window.

"I ordered us another bottle of wine, I hope you don't mind," Stuart smiled.

She gave him her best smile and nodded. "The wine is superb, there's no reason for me to mind."

"Shall I?" He picked up the bottle and offered to pour.

She was distracted by something familiar appearing from at the other end of the street. Shrugging herself away from it she gave her attention back to Stuart, who was still holding the bottle, but as the familiar figure came closer she stood up and rather confusedly looked out of the window. She heard Stuart's voice asking her what the matter was but it merely fell into the mull of background noise.

"Booth," she muttered under breath, and began to push past the table. She saw Stuart stand up, looking perturbed at what was going on. A few other people had noticed also, her furrowed brow and worried expression letting them know that something was clearly amiss.

She felt the cool air as the door swung open and saw her partner enter, her eyes opening wide as she noticed that he was drenched. She raised her eyebrows and tried her best to pull back a smile as he was clearly annoyed and she knew that the suit he was wearing was the one he had only just bought. He came over to the table and Brennan was aware that they now had the attention of most of the restaurant's patrons.

"Hi," he directed at Stuart. "You must be Bones' date. I'm Seeley Booth, her partner," he held out a hand which Stuart took rather tentatively, giving fleeting glances to Brennan that belied his confusion with the word 'partner'.

"My work partner," she automatically clarified, her eyes fixed on Booth. "Why are you here?" She asked. He pulled a vacant chair away from a table and sat down.

"We have a case," he explained, an expression on his face that looked as if someone had put something disgusting under his nose.

"I'm on a date!" She said firmly, ignoring the strange feelings that had began churning in her chest since his arrival. She noticed Stuart flicking his head from one person to the other.

"I can see," he replied, his voice steely. "And I'm very sorry," he nodded at her date. "But you are needed at a crime scene," his tone was that of a teenager who had just been told by the headmaster that she should be in detention.

"Get someone else to do it," she said dismissively. How dare he come in here and disrupt her private life like this. She took a gulp of wine and hoped it would soak away the pounding feeling in her chest.

"Bones, I have just waded through a river in the pouring rain to make sure a skeletonized body of a child is not washed away by this downpour that we're having. This is my case. You are my partner. Let's go," he stood up and her attention was drawn to the fact he was soaking wet, and not just from the rain. Clearly he had been in something like a river or a lake.

She stood up and looked at Stuart, annoyance gripping her tight. "I'm really sorry," she said shaking her head, her expression full of woe. "I have to go," she glared at Booth.

Stuart stood, and she saw Booth looking him up and down, assessing him as he had done with Michael. The grip of annoyance became vice like, and she half closed her eyes, trying to persuade herself not to maim Seeley Booth.

"I'll email you about the article," he said, obviously intimidated by the FBI agent. She hadn't told Stuart much about Booth, just saying that occasionally she did some work for the FBI. "Maybe its best if you have a think about whether you will have time enough to do this. It is something that needs to be done fairly quickly, and," he looked at Booth, "it appears that you are occupied with other matters."

Brennan sent Booth her best death look; her breathing had increased and her heart rate was up. She inhaled deeply and slowly. "I'll pick up the check on the way out," she answered the professor, aware of Booth's body heat next to her, aware of every movement that he made, which infuriated her even more. She could see that smirk spread across his face and debated the best way to get rid of it.

Stuart nodded. "That's kind of you. I'll make my way back to my hotel. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

She tried to smile, but failed miserably, taking her coat from the waitress who, seeing the situation, had brought it over. She hooked it on her shoulders, glancing outside at the still pouring rain. Within seconds of being out there the mascara she had carefully applied would be running down her face in black rivulets and the white shirt would be almost transparent. She looked at Booth; he obviously hadn't been lying when he said he'd been wading through a river. She left the two men to have what seemed to be a staring competition, to pay the check, before walking out of the door, hands in pockets, bracing herself for the wet.

She walked a few paces, waiting for Booth to catch her up. The sound of squelching feet told her that he was approaching. She didn't slow down for him, if anything, her instinct was to speed up and show her annoyance by making it harder for him to reach her.

"Bones!" She heard him call. She didn't turn round. The man was so infuriating sometimes. "Bones!" He called again. She stopped and waited, the footsteps got nearer.

She reached her and she looked at him, the sight causing a rush to whip through her body. "What is it, Booth? You've already spoiled my night," she said coldly.

"You weren't going to sleep with that guy, were you?" He gave her his grin, a note of ironic laughter hanging on at the end of his question.

"What business would it be of yours?" Bones kept on walking even through she wasn't sure where she was going.

"He's a nerd, and he even let you pay for dinner," he answered.

"He's not a nerd, he's just interested in the same things as me. His evening was ruined – by you – so it only seemed fair that I should pay," she said haughtily.

"It was the way he did it. And then he said that about your paper – where do you find these guys, Bones?" She wanted to hit him badly, but remembered that she was a grown woman and that type of behaviour wasn't acceptable.

"Why don't you just quit while you're ahead, Seeley Booth, and tell me why you've dragged me away from the first date I've had in ages. You know," she carried on her rant, "it seems that you keep telling me I should get out more and live a little and when I do you find some way to make sure that it gets spoilt! Is there something you want to tell me, Booth?" She heard him make a deep sound, rather like a growl, and wondered if she'd pushed him too far.

"There are many things I'd like to tell you, Temperance, but I'll start with what's important right now. We've got a body," he began. "It's of a child, I think, found by the river. We had an anonymous report of a body being seen and I was sent out to check it. The report was correct and the area around it has been secured. Now I need you to look it over, and help identify it."

She looked at him through the curtain of rain between them. The rain was staying persistently heavy, which would likely have washed away any evidence where the body had been found. His face looked contorted with conflicting emotions and she knew that this case was automatically going to be difficult, with the body being that of a child's. He was obviously soaking wet too; his suit jacket and shirt clinging to him, his hair flattened by the force of the water, and his trousers heavy. She found herself looking at him a little too much.

"Before we had out there can we at least stop of at the lab and get some waterproofs? You need to change, Booth. You'll get sick if you stay in that clothing for much longer," she said, having been calmed slightly by the sight of him looking a little vulnerable. She mentally kicked herself. Why Booth was able to create so many different feeling in her she didn't understand?

"You've gone from shouting at me to being concerned rather quickly, Bones. Is there something you want to tell me?" He grinned through chattering teeth as they approached his car. He went to the passenger side and held the door open for her. She glared as she got in.

"There are lots of things I want to tell you, Booth, none of which you'd probably like." She retorted as he started up the engine. She could feel her clothes sticking to her skin. Her coat had become saturated with the rain, and soaked straight through to her shirt. She could just tell that the make up she had applied was now running down her face and her hair was matted to her head. She thought she would become angry again, but the thought of what they were heading out to do pacified her.

"Where do you want to stop off at?" Booth asked after a couple of minutes of silence, both of their tempers having calmed a little.

"The lab," Brennan replied. "How come you knew where I was?" She asked, suddenly curious as to have he'd known where to go.

"I didn't know. Angela checked round the restaurants near Wong Foo's for you, and I took an educated guess and figured you wouldn't have headed too far from the nice hotel area and found you that way," he drove with one hand on the wheel as usual, a style that had made Brennan a little nervous at first, but now she found it oddly relaxing. He looked very in control and the sight was soothing, although she wouldn't be able to explain why easily.

"You went looking for me in weather like this?" she said, surprised.

"Just because it's raining like there will be another flood, doesn't mean that murderers stop doing their thing. I did try your cell, several times in fact, but you weren't answering," he said and she noted the pointed tone in his voice.

"I left it at home," she felt half guilty admitting that. Booth had quite clearly had an awful night, having to wade through a river, secure the body of a child and then come and find her. His silence at her words distressed her. She liked to argue with him, she enjoyed the tension it created, but she cared for him enough to not want to push it.

He pulled up at the lab. "Think you've anything in there that would fit me?" He asked. "I've a change of clothes in the boot, but I think we could both do with something that'll keep this rain off."

The rain banged loudly against the windscreen, and played a tinny tune on the roof of the car. She slumped back in her seat for a second, wishing the weather away. "We will have something," she answered him. "It may be something of Dr Goodman's, but it will keep you dry." Bracing herself, she got out of the car and headed for the lab. Booth followed her, the sound of water squelching in his shoes causing a smile to come, unwanted, to her lips. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, and knew that he had noticed the expression. She turned her head, and they made eye contact, a jolt of a flame burning through her, causing her quickly to turn away. This was something she did not yet understand, and she refused to contemplate it any further.

* * *

I hope you think it was okay... Please review and let me know what you think. (All reviews are appreciated, cherished and adored, includng anonymous and one word, or even smiley faces!) 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all the reviews!**

**This is going to be longer fic than 'Sleeping', there will be fluff, but I want to work on plot as well.**

**Thank you to Laura and Feyrey for beta-ing, you're stars!**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 2 – You Only Live Once

The rain still fell, making the wet ground difficult to walk on. The fields through which Booth walked seemed more like pools of mud. It was almost unbelievable that only hours ago the grass had been almost yellow with dehydration, people dotted on it armed with picnic baskets and blankets, enjoying the hot weather.

He heard a slurping noise whenever he picked up his feet, shod in boots that were a size too small. Bones had found them in an cupboard where the squints kept waterproof clothing for adventures such as this one, along with an all-in-one that had been Dr Goodman's. They weren't his usual style, but seeing as the rain was still torrential he had given in and put them on, much to Bones' amusement when she had seen him after he had changed. He hadn't appreciated the laughter, but he was glad she wasn't mad at him any more.

They had taken a road that crossed a bridge, leading them to the side of the river that the body was on. Once they had parked up alongside the multitude of vehicles already there - one of which, Booth was interested to see, belonged to Cullen – it was a mile and a half trek to the riverside. Any other woman he knew would have complained about the weather, her hair and the fact that she had to wear an outfit that was as far away from fashion as possible… but not Bones. She kept up with his quick pace stride for stride, her face set in a determined expression, and actually looking cute in that boiler suit thing. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"You think your date will be calling you later?" He teased, or rather provoked. She ignored him.

"He seemed kinda smitten when I saw you two talking," he continued, knowing that he could quite possibly end up in the river for the second time that evening if he persisted.

She glared at him from beneath her hood. He couldn't see the expression in her eyes but he could certainly feel it. "I very much doubt that Stuart will bother to call to resume our date, or even to arrange to write the paper we were planning on, _partner_," she said, her tone now back to usual. He smiled inwardly about the use of the word partner. He had done that on purpose in the restaurant, and clearly it had had an effect on both Brennan and her date. Truth be told, as soon as he had seen him he had wanted to stake his claim over Bones immediately, show that she somehow belonged to him. He looked at her for a brief moment, hoping that she wouldn't notice, while he took in her pretty features and the auburn hair that was peeking from under her hood, and felt that familiar feeling that he knew he shouldn't be having. He looked away, burying what was going through his head in some deep recess of his brain, knowing that it would creep out when it was least convenient.

"Hey, I just told him what you were," he defended himself, masking his thoughts with bravado.

"He would have thought that you meant partner of a different kind, Booth," she looked at him. Even in the dark he knew her eyes were flaring.

"It doesn't matter now, he's flying home tomorrow," she said, now focusing on the scene being carried out a short way in front of her. He heard the rush of the river increasing in volume, sounding much more forceful than when he had left it to go and track Bones down.

"You weren't thinking it could be anything serious, were you? I mean, Bones, he's not exactly your type of guy…" he began, knowing he was sounding a little arrogant.

"How would you know what 'my type of guy' is anyhow?" She demanded. "Since I've known you I've only been out with two men and I don't see how that qualifies you to have an opinion on what type of men I find attractive!" Her voice was only just about audible over the roar of the water.

"You just need someone who will – I don't know, Bones – make you bend a little," Booth said loudly.

"I don't know what that means," she shouted back, walking to where two crime scene investigators were hovering over the blanketed body.

"That's why you need someone who'll make you bend a little," Booth murmured, well aware that she couldn't hear him. She wouldn't be interested in him now anyway, not when she had a skeleton there to analyse.

He crouched down beside her as she began pull the blanket away from what was left of the body. He could see her studying everything with utmost concentration, her features heightened in the false lighting provided by the officers at the scene. Someone had erected a canopy over the scene, preventing evidence from being washed away by the constant downpour. This kept the rain off of both of them, partially, but the wet ground made it uncomfortable to hover too close to the floor. Bones seemed oblivious to the conditions and he realised that she must have done digs in worse circumstances than this. He noticed a piece of wet hair sticking to her cheek and fought the urge to move it away. For a few seconds it was all he could think about; moving that lock of hair and touching her pale white skin, then her attention was caught by his gaze and she stared at him, a questioning look on her face.

"What are you looking at, Booth?" She asked, as if she couldn't quite believe he was breaking her concentration.

"You, um, have some hair stuck to your cheek," he said truthfully, and pushed out a finger to move it. Unsurprisingly, she backed away and moved it herself, giving him the glare that he had last received from girls in the playground at school and he'd tried to pull their hair to get their attention. He pushed his lips together and pulled a 'whatever' face.

"This is the body of a child, a male," she confirmed, casting looks from him to the focus of her attention. "Approximately eight years old at the time of death. He appears to have been in good health, and there is no obvious cause of death, but I need to examine him at the lab to get any more detailed information."

"Any idea of time of death?" Booth asked, his head jutting from under the tarpaulin canopy and meeting the still pouring sky.

Bones joined him, her hood still up and protecting her from the cool water. "I'm going to have to take a closer look for that. Given where he's been found, I'd suggest that this wasn't the place of death. This body's only been put here recently," she told him.

"I would agree with that based on the logic that we would have had a call sooner if the body had been here longer," Booth agreed.

"Well, I'm telling you that on fact. If the boy had been killed here and the body left to decompose in this spot then there would have been signs of scavenger activity. bones would have been carried off, and there would have been damage done to the skeleton by insects and animals. None of that has happened. We have a complete skeleton, with a little flesh still on it, which will help in using D.N.A. to identify the body," she snapped of the latex gloves she had worn while examining the remains and beckoned for the crime scene investigators to put the skeleton in a body bag, and take it to the lab.

Booth pulled the hood up on his boiler suit, not caring how he looked as the rain was coming down harder then ever, wetting his face. The hood had collected a little rain inside it, but at least it provided a barrier between the rain and his head. He felt hot and sticky in the clothing. Although it was raining, it was still warm; a little fresher than it had been this afternoon, but not massively so and still humid enough to make him uncomfortable. He watched as Bones began the trek back to the car, the rain blurring his vision a little. She pulled her hood down, obviously a little too hot, and he saw the mane of auburn hair emerge. For a second he could swear his heart took an extra beat at the sight, but he dismissed it as just being something to do with the weather.

"Agent Booth," a voice came from behind, slightly muffled by the hood, but unmistakably belonging to Cullen.

"Sir," Booth answered, turning round.

"Good work on finding the body in these conditions. If it had been left much longer it would probably have ended up in the river," Cullen said. Booth wondered why he was being so complimentary.

"All in a day's work, Sir," he replied, thinking about the new suit.

"I'll have the team comb the area for any evidence," he said, sheltering under a large umbrella, one of those given away free when you bought so much gas.

"It may be a good idea to have someone go over the recording of the call made about the body," Booth said. "Dr Brennan doesn't think that the murder was committed here. She thinks it more likely that the body was brought here recently."

"How recently?" Cullen demanded.

"She's not yet said, Sir," he knew that Cullen was not Bones' biggest fan.

"Then the lady needs to get a move on and let us know. It could well be the perp who made the call," Booth saw Cullen send a glare in the direction of Bones.

"Sir," Booth agreed and exhaled deeply as his boss walked away. He was surprised he had made an appearance, given the weather conditions and the fact that it was Friday night. Friday night – and he still hadn't rung Tessa to let her know why he wasn't back yet. He emitted a sigh, half knowing what was to come once he got back home. He began to run after Bones, knowing that if he didn't hurry her temper would be even more frayed, he had the car keys and she would have to stand in the rain till he got there.

-------------------------------------

Brennan stood by the car, waiting for Booth to open the door, her head cocked on one side, staring at his broad figure as he ran to her. She could understand why he made a good agent; he certainly had the stature for it, all muscles and broad shoulders – probably imposing when it came to interrogating suspects. However, she knew that there was a softer side to Seeley Booth; the one that picked his son up and cuddled him, the one that took away the guilt from parents and the one that had held her in his arms after she had been put through one of the worst ordeals in her life.

She exhaled deeply, berating herself for letting her imagination get carried away thinking about Booth's finer points. She managed to change the gaze she had set on him to one of impatience.

"Took you long enough to get here," she criticized as he unlocked the doors.

"Cullen was talking to me," he told her, sounding harassed.

She got into the car, automatically buckling herself in with the seatbelt. "What did he have to say?" she demanded. "He doesn't like me, does he?" For some reason that bothered her.

"Well, I don't think he will be giving you a gun anytime soon," he said. She wondered if she'd annoyed him, he sounded disgruntled.

They rode to the lab in silence, Brennan resting her elbow on the side of the car and propping her head up, looking out of the window and at the driving rain that was still toppling down. There was a constant sound of water as the wheels of the car swam through streets that hadn't yet drained. She saw houses with the lights on; families gathered together in the dry safety of their homes, children watching television, parents cleaning the pots from dinner. For a few seconds she recalled being in the back of her parents' car on the way back from a day out seeing old friends of theirs, when the weather had been just like today and she had sat bored, in the back of the car, listening to the rush of the water underneath them and battering down on the tin of the roof. She could even recall the smell of the new car freshener that her dad had put in that day after her brother had split a carton of milk over the passenger seat.

"You okay, Bones?" Booth's voice crept into her head and fished her out of her thoughts.

"Fine," she replied, not looking at him.

"Weather like this brings back memories," she heard him say and wondered if he could read her mind.

"I remember going camping with my dad, and it rained like this. We ended up sleeping in the car," he smiled and glanced at her. Her eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. "Remind you of anything?"

"Not really," she answered flatly, not wanting to talk. He left it there. She hadn't wanted to share the memory, although some part of her thought that Booth was the right person to share those things with. He had already proven time and time again that he was understanding and compassionate, and sometimes it just seemed too damn easy to share a little bit more than she normally would do.

They pulled up at the lab, the silence only broken by the persistent dropping of rain. Bones pulled her hood over her head once again, looking forward to changing into ordinary clothes and out of the boiler suit that was almost as humid as the afternoon had been. The uncomfortable heat had taken its toll in the lab, the air conditioning had broken down and arguments had broken out between Angela and Hodgins, and then Zack and Hodgins, resulting in Hodgins leaving work early with the threat to never come back.

Thankfully, the engineers had fixed the air-con and it was now maybe even a little too cool. Brennan began to unzip the suit, feeling cool air hit her body and she breathed a small sigh of relief. She saw Booth begin to do the same and found herself a little spellbound as he began to unzip. Then the zip seemed to get caught and he began to struggle to pull it down further.

She approached him, walking quietly over to where he was stood, cursing irately under his breath.

"Let me help," she said, standing at just less than an arms reach away, and fighting with his fingers for the zipper.

"I can do it!" He shouted back.

"Stop it, Booth," she said as he resisted. "You're getting annoyed with it and this is something that you need patience for." He gave up, curses coming unintelligibly from his lips. She pulled the zipper, it didn't give. Standing a little closer and focusing all of her attention on the item in question and not Booth, she held the two edges of the zipper together, noticing how broad his chest was, and gently pulled the it up.

Slowly it moved. She took it right to the top, ignoring Booth's impatient sigh. "You're supposed to be undoing it, not fastening me back up in this thing!" He argued.

She paid no heed to his words and began to move the zip down, feeling it catch halfway. Booth groaned in annoyance. Standing on tip toes she hooked her hand down the inside of the boiler suit and fished about, becoming increasing aware of the close proximity of their bodies. She could feel his heat seeping into her, and felt his breath moving her hair. Every molecule in her body felt electrified, and she fought to keep a grip on her hands, the backs of which were close against his chest, a white t-shirt covering flesh.

It was the t-shirt that was the problem, having been caught in the zipper. Using slight force, she pulled it out of the way, noticing that Booth's impatient remarks had now ceased, and then proceeded to pull the zip down a little more to show it was now fixed.

She stepped back, half reluctantly, eyes on him. He refused to meet her gaze, looking past her or down to the zipper instead.

"I'll get changed in my office," she told him, turning and walking to her room where dry, clean clothes awaited her. She glanced at the clock, nearly midnight. Fastening the buttons on her shirt she looked out to where Booth was re-emerging after stripping off in the restroom. She wondered where he should have been tonight, and if he had to cancel on Tessa. He rarely mentioned his girlfriend and Angela had speculated that they might have split up. Brennan checked herself – why was she thinking about Booth's love life? He was her work partner and nothing more, no matter if Angela thought that they had 'chemical' or whatever word she had inappropriately used. She pulled on a lab coat and walked into the area where the crime scene investigators had laid out the body, wanting to do what she could to ease the burden of what they had to do tomorrow, or rather, later on today.

Booth hovered nearby, watching as she worked and listening to the notes she dictated. No cause of death was evident; no signs of strangulation, no blows to the head, no broken bones. She caught Booth's eye, he looked restless.

"So where's this leading us to?" he asked, hands in pockets. She thought how different he looked wearing casual clothing instead of his trademark suit.

"I'll need to do an examination of any remains of organs that there are. He may have been poisoned. I can also run a few tests on the bones and any hairs that I find. That will give evidence as to whether he had any foreign substances in his body." She looked sadly at the tiny skeleton; he had been so young.

"Is it murder, Bones? I mean, is there anything that suggests that it's not?" he said, beginning to pace up and down, beginning to become annoying.

"I haven't seen anything yet that suggests he was murdered," she answered, trying to concentrate on tweezering a fine, blonde hair from a tiny patch of skin onto a prepared slide.

"His body was dumped – unless someone's been grave robbing, this is a suspicious death," he paused. "I hate it when it's a kid."

"We all do," she responded, still concentrating on what was on the table.

He laughed, a sarcastic tone to it. "You wouldn't think so to see you working."

"What does that mean, Booth?" She stood up, hands on her hips, her attention now fully given to the agent. "Are you suggesting that I'm not bothered that the body I have on my table is a child?"

"Maybe you're getting a little too good at that barrier you shield yourself with, Bones. Sometimes you're a little more robot than human," he sniped at her.

She felt her skin reddening. "Out!" she shouted, gesturing to the door. "Get out of my lab. I don't know what's bothering you, Booth, but I will not be spoken to like that! My night's been ruined by you, and now you're insulting me! Get out!"

"At least I got you to show some emotion," he snapped at her, before walking to the door. "Call me if anything urgent turns up."

She watched as he left, her chest feeling as if it was about to burst and a maelstrom of emotions flickering round her head. She returned to the body, brushing everything aside to be dealt with later.

-------------------------

Booth walked slowly back to his car, twisting the keys round in his fingers and letting himself get soaked to the bone by the rain, which had not yet ceased. It was past midnight. Tessa would have been waiting for him for nearly five hours and he hadn't so much as rung to let her know he was still alive, not that he thought she'd care by this point. If anything he might have been better off meeting a wet end in the river than facing her now.

The hours he worked had become the Achilles heal of their relationship; it was the bone of contention every time they had an argument. When they first started dating she had loved what he did and it had given her a thrill when he'd had to leave urgently to go on different cases. When he had returned the sex had been mind blowingly brilliant, but even that had come to a sudden halt.

He started his car, switching on the radio and listening to flood warnings for certain areas. The weather was forecast to remain the same, with a small possibility that the rain would become lighter in the afternoon. Just what he needed when they would be spending time looking in a river for any trace evidence.

He drove home, the sinking feeling in his heart becoming heavier the closer he got. He replayed over his last words with Bones before he had left. He hadn't been fair and he would certainly have to apologise to her in the morning. He knew that having the corpse of a child on her table upset her; she had just managed to create a mechanism to switch off so she could get her job done. He could do with one of those himself; it might make cases like this a bit easier.

He pulled up outside his house, leaving the car on the street rather than bothering to park it in the drive. He traipsed into the house, noticing that the alarm wasn't on so Tessa must still be there, although he hadn't seen her car parked out front. He called her name and silence returned. He headed for the lounge at the back of the house and found her sitting on the sofa, coat pulled over her shoulders and shoes already on.

"Hi," he said, feeling pathetic. He didn't know how else to begin this conversation. She looked over at him, unsmiling. He sat down on a chair, not daring to take the seat next to her.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?" she said. It was more of a statement than a question. She stood up, heels helping her to tower over him. He looked up at her. If it had been Bones he would have stood up to be level with her, invading her space and creating that chemistry which he thrived on. With Tessa he didn't have that urge to be bothered.

"Don't you need to present your evidence before coming to a closing statement?" he asked with a wave of his hand, feeling for the remote control with the other, flicking the TV onto a sports channel.

"I could tell you what you've not done right, Seeley, but it seems rather pointless when you don't care. You've left me here for over five hours waiting for you without so much as a phone call to tell me you couldn't make it," she said, anger in her voice.

"I was out by the river, looking for a body, which I found, and it was a kid's, okay? See, I know you're not interested in what I do, Tessa, which is why this has stopped working. If I had called you, you wouldn't have wanted to know," he didn't look at her, or raise his voice. He kept his eyes focused on the ball.

"I'm going, Seeley," she announced.

"Yeah, that seems clear, seeing as you're wearing your coat," he muttered.

"You're prepared to let a year and a half of a relationship go like that?" she said. He was pleased that there was actually a note of sadness in her voice this time.

"You know what? I am," he stood up and looked her straight in the eye. "You're seeing someone else, so don't give me all that sentimental crap. Just go, Tessa. I imagine you've packed all your stuff already. I've noticed bits of it disappearing these past few weeks, probably to the model lawyer's house." He saw her turn red and realised he'd hit the nail on the head.

"You can't talk about seeing other people when most of your time is spent with _Bones_ or whatever she's called. When we're together you talk about her and when we're not together you're with her. You may not be sleeping with her now…"

"Leave it, Tessa!" He interrupted. "Just go. We knew this was going to happen; I'm just not sure why it hasn't happened before. Call your boyfriend and have him come get you, seeing as your car's not here." He sat back down, desperate for something to hit.

Tessa glared at him, picking up her bag, and then throwing him a key, before scuttling to the door. He heard it slam, almost shaking the house. He turned the TV onto mute and began to enjoy the silence and relief that he felt now that it was over, or at least tried to enjoy it. His mind slipped back to his argument with Bones, replaying it over in his mind. It wasn't Tessa leaving that had bothered him; it was the row with the forensic anthropologist that had him worried. He sighed and stood up, turning off the TV and heading for a shower, images of Tempe's hurt look imposing on his mind as he tried to scrub away the remains of the day.

* * *

_Please, please review! As usual, smiley faces, one word reviews and anonymous reviews are accepted, and it only takes half a minute - so come on - you know you want to!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is a little sad. I promise more fluffy BB moments in chapter 4.**

**Thank you for all of the reviews.

* * *

**

Chapter 3 – Shells

Brennan woke up at the lab, her forehead kissing the desk where she had sat going through galley proofs until the early hours of the morning, once she had done what she could with the body and given up hope that Stuart or Booth would phone. She hadn't known why she was waiting for Booth's call, maybe for an apology after what he had said or maybe for something else – to find out about the boy perhaps.

She dragged herself up out of her seat and headed to her office where she kept shower stuff for situations like these that were becoming all too common. Waking up at work was something that was happening at least once a week now. Last night had been the first time in ages that she had gone out with someone just to enjoy herself and not talk about mutilated bodies, serial killers or hits that had been put on her. And yet again, another evening had been ruined by Seeley Booth.

She headed to the bathroom, hoping that the jet of warm water would rejuvenate her and wake her properly before Booth came walking in, demanding to know what she had found out and then taking her off to talk to various relatives and suspects and making her feel even more inadequate by giving her that look that told her she had embarrassed him once again.

She looked at the shower gel in her hand that promised to revitalise the body and awaken the senses. Somehow she thought it was going to take a lot more than shower gel to do that after last night.

Booth arrived before Zach, wandering through the doors of the lab at six thirty. His face was creased with a pained expression and his eyes looked heavy, as if he hadn't slept. Brennan looked up at him from the microscope she had been squinting into and braced herself for another bad day. Clearly his mood was no different from last night.

"What've you got?" He asked, not even a glimmer of smile haunting his lips.

She took a step back from the desk, her hands going to the pockets in her lab coat. "Nothing conclusive. The only thing I have noticed is on the left hand where there is still a little flesh - the extremities are hyper-extended."

"What could have caused that?" Booth asked. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes and put it down to spending a night with Tessa after not seeing her for a while.

Brennan shrugged. "It could be down to a number of things. One of those things is poison. Certain types of poisons can cause hyper extension in the extremities," she told him, her voice flat.

"That could be a possible cause of death, then. Couldn't it?" He said, perking up a little.

"I really couldn't say. The bones are telling me very little. He was a healthy seven to eight year old child. I would suggest he was from this area due to the fluoride levels in his bones and teeth, as they are consistent with the water supply in this county. He had no illnesses, no broken bones, or healed bones – that's about it, Booth. When Angela gets here she will start on a facial reconstruction," she said calmly, not allowing his mood to affect her.

Booth sat down. "Any chance of a coffee?" He asked, no animosity towards her in his voice, just sounding down and tired."

"Sure," she replied, wandering over to where she had already brewed fresh coffee. She took him over a mug and sat in a chair nearby. Something wasn't right, that was clear, and even Temperance with her lack of people skills and intuition could see that he was clearly unhappy. She wondered if she should ask, or just leave it to Angela who would no doubt deal with it much more efficiently than she could.

So she simply sat there, drinking her coffee and staring at anything but him, her brain going over the child's body and mentally recapping her examination of it, although her thoughts were constantly impinged on by the man who sat so close.

"You been here all night, Bones?" He asked quietly.

She nodded, returning to the microscope, leaving the coffee undrunk.

"No phone call from your date?" She shook her head at the question.

"I don't think I'll be hearing from Stuart again, in anything other than a professional capacity," she said, not looking at him.

"Well, maybe that's for the best," he said, standing up and stretching. "He was an idiot."

"You didn't know him," she said, trying to focus on what was under the microscope rather than the oaf now standing behind her. "You can't possibly make a comment on someone when you've spent less than two minutes with them."

"I can get a good idea about someone quickly, Bones. That's my job, to evaluate people," he explained, that patronising edge to his voice grating at her.

"That's not rational, Booth," she said, delicately taking the slide from under the microscope. "What did you not like about Stuart, what evidence is there for you not to like him?"

"His eyes were too close together. That's one of the ways in which people used to identify criminals," he said smugly.

"Using the physiological features of someone, is no longer regarded as a reliable way to identify psychopaths and sociopaths," she shook her head, looking at him directly, hands resting on hips. He could be so infuriating sometimes. "Stuart was a perfectly nice person. And you now have no reason to be worried about me sleeping with him as you clearly put a stop to that."

"Well, maybe you'll thank me one day," he said, turning round and making his way to the exit. She did not let her eyes follow him.

-------------------------

Zack and Hodgins arrived shortly after Booth's departure, their argument from yesterday now replaced by one about the speed of arachnids versus the speed of millipedes. Brennan quickly closed her ears as they walked passed, not even bothering to return their greetings. She had left a collection of bugs on Hodgins' desk, all safely caged, hoping they would give some idea as to how long the corpse had been there and the time of death. It wasn't that unusual for them to work Saturdays, and neither would have hadanything better to do.

Her mood had significantly gone downhill since Booth had arrived, blackening her day with his tired eyes and cantankerous attitude. Why he got to her she didn't understand. Other people's moods rarely affected her, she simply ignored them and became lost in her work, which was what she was trying to do now by analysing every inch of the skeleton, but images of Booth kept on dragging themselves through her mind, and it was almost a relief when Angela appeared, an hour early thanks to a phone call asking her to come in and take a look at the skeleton.

"Hey, Bren," Angela chirped. "How was your date?" Angela smiled warmly. Brennan looked blankly at her.

"What date?" She demanded. "The one that Booth interrupted, and behaved like an ass during?"

"Oh dear," Angela smiled sympathetically. "It's like I've told you before, sweetie, he's jealous."

Brennan glared at her. "He was having a bad day, Angela. He came in here this morning looking like he'd not slept in a week and in a really unreasonable mood."

"Have you thought it might be trouble with Tessa?" Angela asked, sounding hopeful.

"I haven't thought anything," Brennan lied. She had thought plenty. She held up the skull from the body and turned it round, her brain processing its features.

"You can keep on denying it, Bren, but one day it's going to turn round and bite you on the ass, and then you'll have to think about it," Angela said with a smile, looking over Brennan's shoulder at the skull. Her expression changed to one of sorrow when she realised that it was a child's.

"A kid?" She asked for confirmation.

Brennan nodded. "Seven or eight years old. I expect Booth to be over here soon with a list of appropriate missing persons."

Angela took the skull, having already put on latex gloves. "We'll soon know who you were," she said, trying to push emotions to the back of her mind as Brennan did, only she wasn't any where near as good. "I hate it when it's a kid," she said to Brennan, who was back at her microscope.

"I know. We all do, Ange. You have to think – you're the best person to help give his back his identity and help bring whoever did this to justice," she tried to comfort.

"I know," she looked at the skull sadly. "I take it you want this done as quickly as possible?"

Brennan nodded. "It'll give us something to go on when Booth comes back with the missing persons reports. I've written down all the measurements for you." She handed Angela a sheet of paper with the figures on. Angela took them in her free hand.

"Thanks, I'd best get down to it," she said, walking off. Brennan rested her forehead against her folded arms for the briefest of seconds, taking a deep breath, her sleep deprived mind switching between the images of the murdered boy and Seeley Booth, neither of which were currently wanted. She groaned, and tried to pull herself together, knowing that the day couldn't possibly get any worse.

------------------------

Booth sat in his office, his eyes skimming down a list of names and details on his computer screen, each one making him feel slightly more angsty. He hated cases where the vic was a kid, and he had a feeling that this one wasn't going to get any easier.

He pressed the print button and waited for the technology to work and the printer to spit out the sheets of required information. Nothing happened. He pressed the print key again, and still, no noise came from the machine. He reached over to it, resisting the urge to throw it through the window. No paper. Easily fixed.

Thirty seconds later he was on his feet, jacket on, and heading to the car, rushing as he got outside not wanting to get any wetter than he could help. The papers were tucked inside his jacket pocket, protected against the still pouring rain. The temperature had now dropped, and the humidity had decreased, making things a little more comfortable. He unlocked the car and jumped in, his mind wandering between possibly scenarios for the body he'd found and the anthropologist he would be dealing with at the lab. Hopefully she could give him an idea of when he'd actually died, then at least some of the possible I.D.'s could be discounted.

He drove cautiously. The water logged roads now posed a skid risk and given that they were becoming busy with people waking up and commuting there would be a high risk of accidents. The driving rain was making for decreased visibility also, and even with wipers on full it was difficult to see. The weather added to his already dour mood. Surprisingly though, it didn't have anything to do with Tessa and the break up. That was one of the things that cheered him, the thought that he now didn't have to deal with a relationship he didn't want, he was free to concentrate on Parker and his job, without having to worry about upsetting a temperamental female. For some reason he found an image of Bones dancing about in his imagination, and his bad mood deepened. Clearly she had complicated things. He was aware that he had acted rather idiotically around her last night and this morning, and given that in the next few days they were going to be spending a lot of time together he knew he needed to make amends.

He spotted a coffee shop and pulled over, grimacing as rain dripped down his back as he got out of the car. He'd parked in a no park zone, but the possibility of afine would be worth not getting soaked to the skin. He waited patiently for the rather slow girl to take the orders of those before him, using the time to decide what to get for the rest of the squints, not really having a clue what they liked, besides bodies and bugs. Eventually he decided upon blueberry muffins, and just got drinks for him and Bones. No doubt Angela's eyebrows would be rising when she saw that he'd favoured Brennan more than the rest of them. He chuckled as he gave the order, his black mood lifting slightly.

Entering the lab was like doing an obstacle course, avoiding the various people milling about, chairs being pushed into the walkway when someone stood up and tables in the most inappropriate places when you were trying to walk through carrying a bag of muffins and two hot drinks.

He saw Bones talking with Angela and looking at a piece of paper that he imagined would be Angela's first impression of what the boy looked like. His stare was broken by Zack cutting across him, almost making him drop one of the drinks.

"Sorry, Agent Booth," Zack apologised. "I just need to see Hodgins…"

"It doesn't matter, Zack, you don't have to explain anything to me," he said, feeling a little more back to normal. He saw Angela look up at him, hearing his voice. His eyes focused on the auburn haired scientist, still studying the paper.

"Booth's here," he heard Angela say. Brennan eventually looked up and their eyes met, the gaze holding for what felt like a long time, not even breaking when he handed her the hot chocolate he had chosen for her. Her look was almost a glare, rather like one cat weighing up another, wondering if it was going to attack. He didn't smile, feeling that would irritate her even more, and he resisted the urge to touch her in a greeting, knowing that he would likely suffer some physical pain in response.

"Thank you," she said, taking the hot chocolate.

"It's a peace offering," he kept his voice quiet, knowing that at least three pairs of ears would be listening into their conversation.

She nodded. "Doesn't mean I've got to forgive you," she replied, taking the lid off and studying its contents.

"I've not done anything to it, Bones," he protested.

"I didn't think you had, Booth. I just like it to be a little cooler, and having the lid off helps it to cool to the optimum temperature quicker," she replied, not even the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.

"I have muffins for you and the rest of the squints, as well," he held the bag up, feeling like he was an insect about to be trodden on, or at least dissected by Hodgins, given the look of distaste on her face. He felt a hand snake round him and take the bag.

"Thank you, Booth," he heard Angela say. "I appreciate these even if Bren doesn't."

"You're welcome, Angela," he glared at Bones. If she wasn't willing to make an effort to get along then he wasn't going to bother either. He started to get the sheets of paper from his jacket pocket, his eyes having seen the sketch that Angela had done of the boy. The sooner they could put a name to him, the quicker they could proceed with the case, and that was the most important thing. Whoever had taken the life from one child might do it to another.

"Lighten up, Bren," he heard the end of Angela's undertone to her friend. Booth looked up, catching Bones' eyes once more. He saw something in them that he had never yet managed to identify.

"This is a list of boys aged between six and nine that have gone missing in the Huyana River area in the past five years. It will help if we had an estimated date of death," he glanced to where Bones was now standing by his side, her eyes looking at each face printed on the paper as he swiftly skipped through the pages.

"Hodgins is seeing what he can do with that," she said, her eyes looking at the details of each missing boy. "I found some insect activity on the bones; it may help us with knowing how long the body had been outside for." She took the papers out of his hands and started to walk over to a desk, sitting down and beginning to study them. He grabbed a chair, pulling it next to her; his knee jutting into the drawers. He hunched closer, his head almost touching hers as she began to read through the details of each missing child. There were ten in total, although two could be discounted as they were from an area that didn't fit with the fluoride deposits in the teeth.

After five minutes she seemed to settle on one particular image, her finger pointing under the date that he had been reported missing - three months ago.

"That's him," she said, looking up at Booth, all differences between them forgotten. Before he could realise what she was saying, he found himself consumed with her, absorbed by her blue eyes and clear, pale skin. His skin tingled with the wanting to kiss her, so he diverted his eyes back to the picture she was pointing to. "It matches Angela's drawing, and in my opinion would fit with the condition of the body," she said seriously.

He nodded, looking between the sketch and the photograph of Thomas Ashley Dyer. "Has she programmed the details into that machine yet?" He asked.

"If by 'that machine' you mean the Angillator, then no, she's doing it now," Bones said.

"What about the dates?" Booth pressed.

"It depends on so many factors, Booth. We don't know where the body was kept after he died, although my guess would be somewhere relatively warm, as I think decomposition would have been quick. It also would have been speeded up by the heat that we've had. The organs that were remaining have also decomposed – I'd say he's been dead around eight to ten weeks, but that is as close as I get without guessing, and that's relying on him being somewhere hot, and this weather we've been having. Usually it takes around eight months for a body to become skeletonised, but given the condition of the bones, I'd say something has been done to speed up the process," she said, biting on her bottom lip.

He nodded, and without thinking put his hand on her arm. Her flinch made him realise what he'd done and he removed it quickly. "You're puzzled by this, aren't you?"

She sighed deeply. "It's not right – it usually takes months for a body to get to this stage. Nearly all of the skin is missing, yet the organs are still there. We know that the body was put there because of the lack of scattering and insect and animal damage."

"He put the body there on purpose yesterday, knowing that the rain was going to wash away any lingering evidence," Booth surmised. "He's had the body awhile and was waiting for the perfect time to leave it for us to find. There may be more bodies he has waiting for us." He felt a wave of disgust turn over in his stomach.

Bones shrugged, but a look of concern had overtaken her features. "This is what we have to go on. I'll have Zack run some tests on the bones and see if they've been washed with detergent of some kind that's taken away the skin. It may explain why the bones are so clean."

He nodded. "Shall we go see how Angela's doing?" She gave him a brief smile, and he felt himself brighten at the sight.

Angela was staring at the 3D image standing in front of her, tapping in details on the hand held machine that had helped her give many people their identities already. He looked at the image, and then referred to the picture in front of him. They were almost a perfect match.

He looked at Bones, she caught his glance and nodded in confirmation. "It's him," she said, moving closer to Booth to take another look at the picture of Thomas Dyer. Having her in close proximity began to cause goose bumps down the side of his arm, and he jumped slightly when she brushed against him.

"Nervous, Booth?" She said, giving him a puzzled smile. He ignored her, not understanding the true answer to that question himself.

"We need to take a trip, Bones," he said, the thought of what they were going to have to do next slicing through his heart.

She nodded, fingers going to her hair and redoing it in its pony tail. She looked up at him, and he read the look in her eyes easily. This was the worst part of their job, the part she had managed to hide away from, until she had started working with him.

-------------------------

They headed straight for the home of Thomas Dyer, journeying through streets not too far from where Brennan herself lived. She watched the quiet roads, still running with torrential rain as Booth drove, having little to say. She could guess that he was wondering what it would be like if someone came to him and told him that Parker's body had been found. She looked at him for a second, his jaw set solidly and his eyes filled with a blank expression. He was trying to detach himself, just as she did every time she looked over a new body. It was something she had become a master at; spending years in the foster care system had created a toughened shell that little was able to penetrate.

Now, as the buildings sped by, that shell became a little thicker, as Tempe took her emotions to another plane, leaving them there until later, when it would be safe again, away from prying eyes, to reconnect and deal with the details of life that were better off forgotten, or relegated to a fictional piece of writing, where the lights could come back on at any time, safe in the knowledge that it wasn't real.

Booth pulled up at a house with a beautifully kept garden that seemed a little less waterlogged than the others on the road. At the front of the lawn stood a tall oak tree, its branches knotted and twisted from years of growth, the low branches making it perfect for climbing. She saw Booth noticing it too, and they looked at each other, the same sad smile mirrored on their faces.

Slowly they walked up the path, the silence continuing. Brennan knew the score, let Booth talk. She had every intention of keeping silent at this one.

He knocked at the door, the rain pelting down on top of them. Brennan could feel the rain wetting her hair, thankful for the water proof coat she had chosen to wear. Booth was in his usual suit, this time it was one she recognised to be an older member of his wardrobe. Obviously he didn't want to run the risk of ruining another new one.

The door opened and a woman, not that much older than Booth, stood there, puzzlement on her face. Booth took out his identification and showed it to her, worry flowing through her features as she jumped to the implications of the badge.

"I'm Agent Seeley Booth, and this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. We'd like to talk to you about Thomas," he said in a quiet but comforting voice. The woman let them in, ushering them into the sitting room that Tempe and Booth had seen from outside.

Everything was immaculate, not a dot of dust anywhere. The room was fashionably furnished, with very few ornaments or photographs. One picture sat on the mantelpiece, showing Thomas a little way up the tree, a smile playing over his face. Brennan couldn't smile back, and she felt intense sorrow. Clearly, her shell wasn't thick enough.

Mr Dyer sat on a chair facing the television, his feet propped on a foot rest and to her astonishment, her first book in his hands. He looked at her, a little embarrassed, and she diverted her eyes to Booth. She doubted that he had not noticed, very few details by passed the FBI agent, but he was clearly in no mood to exchange looks.

"You've obviously found Thomas' body," the husband sat up and said. He looked to Brennan, pain in his eyes. "If you hadn't, then you wouldn't be here."

Brennan fought for the right words, wanting to give them the facts about what had been found, but knowing that wasn't suitable. Booth must have sensed her struggle.

"Unfortunately you may beright. We believe we may have found Thomas' body last night," he let the words settle in, his tone soft and non-threatening.

"Can we see him?" His mother said quickly. Brennan saw tears begin to roll down her cheeks. The mother looked at Brennan. Evidently they knew that she would be the one dealing with their son's remains.

"Its probably not advisable at the moment," Booth answered again. "Dr. Brennan still has some tests to carry out before you can arrange a burial."

"Don't you need us to identify him – I mean how do you know it's him?" Mr Dyer asked quickly, hope setting in.

"We've gone off the pictures that we had of your son, and some other details, such as…" she felt Booth's glare in her and knew that she shouldn't start to give more details. "But it would help to confirm if we could have something that may have your son's DNA on it, such as a toothbrush or hairbrush," she finished.

"Of course," the father stood up. He looked shocked, stunned. "Maybe you want to check through his room – it seems that's always what detectives do when it's a child. We left everything just as it was, hoping he'd come back." Booth stood up and followed the father out of the room. Brennan stood to go to, but she felt a a grip on her arm and saw the mother stood beside her.

"How did he die?" She asked, stricken with grief.

Brennan felt her expression sink into one of pity and sadness. "I don't know," she hated saying that. "There's no obvious breaks or damage to his bones, no impact to the skull, so at present I really can't say."

The woman nodded, tears still falling. "Was he murdered?" Brennan was stumped. It was being treated as a suspicious death because of the way the bones had been found, but that was no evidence to ascertain that it was. She also knew that the majority of violent crimes were carried out by members of the family, so she wasn't sure how much detail she should be giving out.

"We're not sure," she replied, hedging her bets. "We're making enquiries."

The mother nodded. "I should go and join my partner," Brennan said, excusing herself. She turned round before she reached the door and looked at the woman who seemed to have shrunk with the news. "I'm sorry for your loss," Brennan said quietly as the woman began to break down into sobs.

She found Booth in the child's room, looking around without touching anything yet. The father still stood there, looking as if he had never seen the room before. For a split second Brennan remembered going into her parents' room after hearing the news about their disappearance and looking around it in the knowledge that they'd most likely never be coming back. She could still remember the smell of it, the way the sheets felt beneath her legs as she had sat down and the slight covering of dust that would never be cleaned by her mother.

"Why is the FBI involved in this?" The father asked, clearly on the verge of breaking down. "Shouldn't it be the local PD?"

Brennan looked over at Booth. That was a good question.

"It should be, but for the circumstances in which we discovered the body," he answered. "I can't tell you any more at present, Sir, but be assured that we are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of your son's death."

"You can't tell me because you think I may have done it, don't you? You always suspect the family," his voice began to break and he almost collapsed onto the bed. "I had nothing to do with it! He was my son! My little boy…" His words were smothered by his cries of anguish. Brennan heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and his wife entered, grabbing hold of her husband and joining him in his grief.

Booth caught her eye and she knew that he was preparing to leave. "Mrs Dyer, Mr Dyer" he called their attention. "We will leave you in private. I'll have an officer come by and check on you later. We will need to come back and speak to you again, maybe later ortomorrow. I'll leave you my number and you can contact me at any time." They nodded and Brennan wondered how much of it they would remember. Probably every word, she thought, it wouldn't be something they were likely to forget, it would be etched on their memory in permanent marker.

She led the way out of the house; the rain outside had eased slightly and no longer hit the ground with such force. The pathway was littered with puddles, the lush green grass providing a stark contrast with the grey sky and the atmosphere they had just left. They walked away, Booth briefly looking back up to the bedroom they had just been in. Brennan followed his gaze and saw the silhouettes of Thomas' parents, their arms wrapped around each other, as the punch of the devastating news hit them with full force.

* * *

You know the score - please review, it gives me a reason to carry on writing. Quite a few people are reading this but they're keepingtoo silent about what they think - go on - review, it doesn't hurt... :) 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thank you for all the reviews. The next two chapter begin to get a little fluffier. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Bones and the characters aren't mine. I'm merely playing with the like puppets...

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4 – It's Not What You Say**

They got into the car, Booth turning off the radio immediately, his expression serious and thoughtful. Brennan waited; at some point he would start to tell her his thoughts and instincts, and she would either back them up or refute them with evidence. The wipers weren't waving as violently now the rain had lessened, and she felt a little less mesmerised as they drove by.

"It's not the parents," he said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, one hand on the steering wheel as usual. As she looked at him she felt a jolt of heat run through her body, and noticed that she had turned herself to face him a little. She remembered the pile of bones on her table and pulled herself away from thoughts about Seeley Booth.

"Most homicides and violent crimes are carried out by family members. You can't discount them just because of their reaction, Booth," she answered, knowing that her response would be what he expected.

"And you're absolutely right, Bones, but my gut tells me that if they had murdered their own child, or if it had been an accidental death, then we would not have had a phone call to tell us a body had been found like we did," he said firmly.

"I think you need to tell me more about this phone call, Booth. Why was it you looking for the body and not the local PD, like Thomas' father said? You're usually called in afterward the body's been found, not before," she said, watching his face for his reaction. She felt his hand graze her leg as it went to touch the handbrake and a shiver went through her. She ignored her reaction, concentrating on that Booth didn't evade the question.

"The call wasn't a 911, it was a direct call through to Cullen. It was made to him, which led to the conclusion that it was either a hoax or someone who had a reason to call him directly. It's not an every day occurrence seeing as his number's not exactly in the directory," he explained.

"Any way to find out who made that call?" Brennan asked, unsure of the technology to be able to do such a thing.

Booth nodded. "There are some crime scene people on it now, trying to work out where the call could have been made from. Chances are it'll be from a phone booth, miles away. I don't think this guy's stupid."

She nodded in agreement. "The way the skeleton has been cleaned suggests that he had an idea of how forensics are used. The chances are that it's a common detergent that the body has been soaked in, and used to quicken decomposition. It will be hard to trace it back." She looked at him; his eyes deviated from the road and glanced back. He grinned and cast his eyes on what was going on in front of him. She felt that shiver going through her body once more, realising that she was becoming almost addicted to the way he could make her feel. As they sat in a brief silence she allowed herself a minute to consider the reaction he created in her. He affected her like no one else ever had done, even on entering the same room as her she sensed him there before she actually saw him, purposely trying to stop herself from looking up and staring at him immediately. She knew that Angela had picked up on her responses to him, suggesting that there was something more there than Brennan understood, or wanted to understand.

She gave him a fleeting look before diverting her eyes at the houses they were passing, feigning interest in the neighbourhood. She desperately didn't want him to know that he could make her feel something, that he stirred something beneath her carefully calm, unemotional surface.

"You want to go to Sid's and get some lunch?" He asked, breaking the quiet.

"You can pay," she replied. "After ruining my date last night you own me something," she found she enjoyed reminding him of the date, secretly hoping to provoke a reaction in him.

"Really, Bones? Are you saying that had you had your cell with you, and I had explained the situation you wouldn't have dropped Steve… Sam -whatever his name was – to come and help? 'Cause I don't believe that," he said, tone biting.

She didn't answer. He was right, of course, she would have left to go to him. If he had phoned up and said that he was in Wong Foo's and wanted to see her, with no particular excuse, she would have left Stuart then, as well. But this he didn't need to know. "He was called Stuart, and yes, you know I would have left to come and assist, but if you had called then at least I wouldn't have had to have gone through that embarrassing scene that you created," she argued back.

"Well, next time have your phone with you," he growled, hunting for a parking spot.

She turned her head and looked out of the window, watching a man walk past, his arm around the waist of a girl with bleached blonde hair and a stud in her nose, holding an umbrella over her head. For a split second she felt a pang of jealousy, having only old memories of someone walking with her like that.

"You okay, Bones?" She heard Booth ask.

"Why shouldn't I be?" She put the prickles out.

"You looked a little pensive there. Feeling sorry for a girl who relies on a man?" She realised that he had seen her looking at the couple.

"Why should I? Its instinct for a woman to depend on a male figure. Men are biologically stronger, and would have once been the only one capable of bringing home food and defending the family," she turned to anthropology to answer the question, knowing that it was a normal, and safe, thing to do for her.

She opened the door and got out of the car, hoping that by the time Booth had locked up the topic of conversation would have been changed. Brennan pulled her hood up over her hair, the rain, although having eased some, was still falling, a light pattering hitting the pavements, causing concentric circles to appear in puddles.

Booth ran round to her, putting an arm around her shoulders and hurrying her into Wong Foo's. His touch warming her from the inside and her body urging her to move closer to him, she ignored the feeling, and maintained a little distance.

"You look cute in that hood," she heard him say as they left the rain outside and entered the bar. Blue eyes met his brown as she wondered how she was meant to reply, her brain charting over things that Angela might say in response.

She pulled the hood down, knowing she had kept it one for a little too long, half enjoying his looking at her. They headed for their usual seats at the bar, Brennan hanging up her coat, and Booth his jacket.

"You eating?" Sid asked from across the bar. Booth nodded, as usual not giving an order, trusting Sid's judgement. Silently he sat down, turning his body so he was facing her, rather than the bar. Brennan mirrored him. Usually they both sat half slumped across the bar, eyes on their drinks rather than each other, half ignoring. If she read his body language correctly, he wanted to talk.

Sid dropped two drinks in front of them, and stood a little away, polishing glasses. She wondered how much of their conversations Sid heard, and what he made of them, their partnership. He never directly looked at them, but she realised that he must hear a good deal of what they said, keeping a distance but always seeming to anticipate when another drink was needed, often before it was asked for and occasionally before it's want was realised.

"How much do you think Sid listens to?" She asked Booth who was now playing with his glass of beer, clearly in deep thought.

He smiled, any mocking or infuriating glint absent. "I don't think he needs to listen. I think he just knows," he responded, glancing at her briefly. "He runs a bar; he'll know more about the people that come here than they do."

She watched the bar tender, outwardly concentrating on the job in hand. "He could probably ruin a lot of lives," she thought out loud.

"He could probably make a few better too," Booth said, looking Sid's way. "Hey, Sid," the bar man looked up. "Do you get to hear many secrets in hear?"

Sid nodded. "I know more about the goings on in this town than you do, my man."

"You never tell?" Brennan asked.

Sid shook his head. "What you don't see with your eyes, don't whisper with your mouth," he said without looking up from his task of stacking glasses away. "One thing my mamma taught me."

"Your mamma was a smart woman," Booth replied. Sid nodded, walking away.

Booth's eyes fell back on Brennan and she flinched under their stare. "I am sorry about how I spoke to you this morning," he apologised. She felt a little taken back. It wasn't like Booth to apologise, he generally just left things be and carried on as if nothing had happened, a routine she had become familiar, and comfortable, with.

He looked flustered with her lack of response after a few seconds. "I had a bad night," he explained further. She half glared at him. She hadn't had the pleasantest of nights either.

"Yeah, I know that your evening wasn't brilliant either," he continued his monologue awkwardly; she wondered what his excuse would be. "It didn't get better after I left you."

He was just about to speak when Sid brought over their meals, both of them being given a hot, milky looking soup filled with shrimp, other seafood and noodles. The smell of it began to make Brennan's mouth water, and she poked around the bowl with chopsticks, hooking noodles and blowing on them, doing anything she could not to meet Booth's eyes.

"Cheers, Sid," he nodded. The silence fell uncomfortably, both of them knowing that Booth was about to confide something before the interruption and neither of them knowing how to reboot the topic.

"This is good," Brennan remarked, waving her chopsticks in the air in her enthusiasm.

Booth nodded, his mouth too full to answer. The good food lightened their mood, and someone had seen fit to play something a little more cheerful on the stereo.

"How did your night get worse?" She asked, the music causing her feet to tap.

"I spilt with Tessa," he answered, a noodle snaking at the corner of his mouth. Without thinking she raised her hand and softly brushed it toward his lips. The smile she got in return made her glad she had acted on impulse and she felt a little proud of herself.

"Oh," she said in response. They were quiet again. She looked to his mouth to see if there was any other excuse to touch him.

"So you're not the only one whose love life went up the swanny," he continued.

She looked blank.

"I mean it went wrong," he translated.

"Oh," she said again, not wanting to give away the strange feeling she was experiencing. Angela was going to love this – if she ever found out.

He looked down at his fingers that were pinching the spoon, having abandoned the chopsticks after fishing out the seafood and most of the noodles.

"She's been seeing someone else, anyway," his eyes met hers without his head looking up.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she finally said, reaching out her hand and touching his. His fingers moved a little into hers.

"It was over a while ago; habit just kept it together," he continued. "What's bothering me is that I'm not actually, well, bothered."

"Probably because you knew it was over beforehand," she said softly, his fingers still entwined with hers.

His head moved to one side and she noticed that he was looking at their fingers. She felt herself stiffen as she realised that they had been touching for some time. His eyes moved up and caught hers, and in that soundless moment volumes were spoken.

Her hand jerked away when the look became a little too painful, questioning words about to fall out of Booth's mouth as the crashing ringing of his cell phone broke the air.

"Booth," he answered. "Yeah, we'll come right over." He closed the phone and she saw a different expression cut across his face, the intimacy they had shared evaporated. "That was the officer who went round to Thomas Dyer's house. She says his parents would like to talk to us as soon as possible."

"You think that means they have some information?" She asked, her mind refocused on the case.

Booth shrugged. "It may just mean that the officer has told them how critical it is to have as much information as possible at this stage. I'm not surprised they've called so soon." He stood up, leaving a note to cover their lunch.

"I was only joking about not paying, Booth," she said, grabbing both of their coats.

"Its okay, Bones. You've listened to me going on about Tessa," he said, looking downcast.

Her hand went to touch his arm once more, and he responded by giving her smile that made her wonder just how she felt about his split. As they walked out she saw Sid looking at them, a telling look on his face that anyone other than Booth or Brennan would have been able to read.

------------------------------

Booth drove as quickly as he could through the streets given the conditions. The rain had slowed, and a patch of blue sky was visible, brightening up the grey that had been predominant for the past few hours. He was more aware than ever of the woman sat next to him, recapping all the details of the body, and telling him what Zack had discovered from his examination of the bones after a phone call from the lab, her end of it sounding almost like a foreign language. From what she had said, the bones had been soaked in non-diluted household bleach, common, every day stuff that anyone could have used. But they would have needed a large quantity, so either someone had gone out and bought a load of bleach, or they worked somewhere where it was easy to get hold of. He was inclined to go with the later, a multitude of theories playing over in his head now that they had the new information. And then she had brushed her arm against his on the was to playing with one of her trademark chunky necklaces that fascinated him, and his head had been filled with thoughts of her, Tessa's remarks from the previous night playing as background music.

He gave her another quick glance, her auburn hair bobbing about as she spoke. He wondered what it would be like to pull over and kiss her, whether she would respond or just hit him. He found the thought quite a turn on, he liked the unpredictability of her, like when she had put her hand out to his in Sid's – he hadn't expected that. Even more so, when she had let him tangle his fingers with her and held the grip. He had felt like he had put his fingers into a plug socket, the amount of electricity going through them.

He wondered if she had noticed it. Anyone else would have, he knew, but this was Bones. He doubted that she had ever even heard of the idea of chemistry between two people, probably just thinking of it as an experiment gone wrong. She had stopped speaking, and it looked like she was waiting for him to respond.

"You haven't been listening to me, have you?" She said. Silence fell. "Booth," she prompted when he didn't respond.

"I was thinking things over. You know I like to be quiet when I drive and think the case over," he tried to get out of it.

"So what exactly were you thinking?" She asked, her eyes flaring, making his desire to kiss her all the hotter.

"You know, Bones, things like that are kinda personal. If I answered that you might not like what I said," he pointed out, thankful that they were almost at the Dyers'. He pulled up in the same place as before, noticing how the puddles had grown.

"Aren't we meant to share ideas if we're partners?" Bones asked.

"Somethings you wouldn't want to share," he responded, leading the way to the front door.

They didn't even need to knock; Mr. Dyer had already opened the door, obviously awaiting their arrival. He let them in to the house, Booth noticing his anguished face and preparing himself for another round of upsetting people. He did not believe for a second that these people had killed their son; he had met too many killers before and the Dyers just didn't fit.

He sat down again on the sofa, Bones taking a seat next to him. He felt appeased by her presence, glad of it. He noticed how she held herself, back slightly curved, leaning forward, and hand in her lap, one finger scratching underneath the bracelet on her wrist. Her face was serious, her eyes observing everything that was going on in the room, seeing things that his wouldn't pick up on, noting the way Mr. Dyer held himself. Then he saw her eyes land on him, and he quickly diverted his gaze.

"Mr. Dyer," he began.

"Please, call me Richard," the father answered.

"We just need to know a few things about what your son was like," Booth stated. The boy's father continued, describing his son to be a usual eight year old; loving computer games, comics, cartoons, fishing, all the normal activities. Booth's mind briefly strayed to an image of Parker; he quickly pushed it aside.

There was nothing unusual in what Richard Dyer said about his son. He had attended a school nearby, was doing well, had no problems emotionally or physically, got along well with his classmates. Booth nodded, making the right noises in the right places and gratefully accepting the photographs passed to him.

"We really need to have a look through Thomas' room," he eventually said when there was a lull in Mr. Dyer's descriptions of his son.

"Sure, go ahead," he said, gesturing to the stairs. "I'm sure you don't need me around to hinder your examinations." He tried a smile, but it failed, only emphasizing the hopelessness of his situation.

He followed Bones up the stairs, taking in the pictures of the child and his parents together. He wondered where the portraits had been done; they were obviously professional, and of very good quality.

He stood at the doorway as Bones began to look through the boy's room, checking desk drawers for any thing that looked useful.

"You won't find a journal," he said to her, having an idea of what she was hunting for. She looked up at him from where she was kneeing on the floor. "He was an eight year old boy – he'd have been too busy playing games on his PSP, or watching TV to write in a journal." She looked quizzical at the mention of the games console.

"You remember what it was like to be an eight year old?" She asked him.

He nodded. "Very much. Don't you?"

She moved the covers back on the made up bed, scanning clean sheets and feeling under the mattress. "I try not to remember." He realised she was referring to remembering what it was like to have her parents around. She pulled her hand out sharply from under the mattress.

"He may not have liked to write in a journal, but he liked to draw," she looked at three sheets of sketches. Booth moved close to her, crouching down so as to be on her level and looked through them with her. There were pictures of a man wearing a suit, carrying a bottle. Each one was almost identical, including the fact that the man did not have a mouth on any of the images.

"These are a strange thing for a kid to draw," Booth said, taking on of the sheets and studying it. "I wonder who it's meant to be." Brennan looked at the picture he held, putting a hand on his knee to steady herself.

"It may be a teacher or a coach," she speculated. "Or another member of the family. Children of that age don't have a vast number of adults in their lives," she observed.

"Think we should show it dad and ask him who he thinks it may be?" Booth asked her.

She nodded, standing up with a sigh. "Let me just have another look round," he followed her this time, opening cupboards and drawers, finding nothing that seemed odd or out of place.

When they got downstairs Richard Dyer's eyes went straight to the pieces of paper Booth carried, looking puzzled. Either he was a very good actor, or he had never seen the pictures before.

"Do you have any idea who this is supposed to be?" Booth asked him, handing the pictures over.

Dyer shook his head. "I haven't seen them before – I don't think my son drew them," he said standing up. He walked out of the room, returning quickly with a handful more pictures. "The ones you've shown me look nothing like the pictures that Thomas drew. I don't know why he would have those."

Brennan began to flick through the pictures. "I agree," she said, looking up at Booth. "The pictures are too dissimilar in style, look at the lines. I'd say somebody older drew the pictures we found, actually. We could get Angela to have a look at them."

He nodded, his looking up at Mr. Dyer. "Can you tell us about the day Thomas went missing?" He asked, seeing that the man was settled enough to answer some tougher questions.

"My wife went to pick him up from school, but she was fifteen minutes late as some traffic lights were out and the roads were chaos. Thomas knew that if Mom was late as she wasn't by the school gates he had to go back in the classroom with what ever teacher was on duty and wait for her there. When Julie went to pick him up the teacher said that Tom had never walked back in – she had assumed that Julie had already been there. They began searching, but found nothing, not even his school bag," Thomas' father explained.

"Didn't Julie call the school to let them know she would be late?" He heard Brennan speak up. She had been quiet during this interview, something he was glad of.

"She didn't have her cell. She was rushing to leave the house and forgot to pick it up," he answered flatly.

The questions continued, and were then repeated once Thomas' mother returned from upstairs where she had been sleeping, having given her a mild sedative earlier to calm her. Her answers shed no more light. So far they had pretty much stayed put on square one.

------------------------------

Later, Booth went straight home after leaving the office, not bothering to call in at Wong Foo's. His mood was slightly better, partly due to the fact that the rain had now eased up and the sun was shining again, evaporating the puddles quickly and rebuilding the humidity that had hung over the area before the storm.

He had taken a bundle of documents home with him, all relating to missing boys in the area, searching through a number of dates and ages. Something was calling him to check, having an awful feeling that this had happened before. He wanted to compare details on how the children went missing; his intuition telling him that that was where he might be able to find a lead.

The house felt empty as he entered it. Although Tessa hadn't kept much there, the fact that some things had gone was noticeable. The place seemed quieter and calmer without the expectation of her presence.

He put the files down and went to make himself coffee, dropping his jacket down on the sofa and losing his tie. As he stood over the coffee machine his mind began to recall pictures of Bones, recapping over the scene in Sid's that lunchtime and the feel of her hand on his.

The thought make him feel like he had emptied a cage of butterflies into his stomach. He smiled a little wryly and wondered what she was doing now. Not, he imagined, thinking about him, and he doubted that she would be replaying a slight touch, between friends, in an every day bar.

-----------------------------------

Brennan unlocked her door and threw herself down on the sofa in relief of surviving another day. She rested her head back on the arm of the seat and closed her eyes briefly, trying to erase the memory of Thomas Dyer's mother's face when she had it confirmed that her son wasn't coming home.

Brennan inhaled, taking deep breaths and releasing them slowly, controlled. Then an image of Seeley Booth popped into her head, and her breathing increase. She got up, heading for the kitchen to make coffee.

Warily, she opened the fridge, remembering how he had ended up in hospital because of her. Angela had referred to him as her knight in shining FBI standard issue body armour. She had dismissed the notion, but the thought wouldn't leave her head. She eyed her phone and wondered whether to call him on the pretence of wanting to discuss the case, but pride seemed to be getting in the way. She also felt a little scared. They had touched for a little too long while he had been discussing his break up with Tessa; he had obviously needed some comfort and had drawn it from one of his friends, which they were. Just friends, right?

She remembered his interruption in the restaurant, his display of being the boss-male. A theory came into her head, obviously planted there by Angela. What if there was something more with them? She knew she was terrible at reading signs, but he was an attractive man, she had noticed that from when she first started working with him. But she had worked, slept with, attractive men before, and they had never created so much of a confusion within her.

She poured her coffee, wondering what Booth was doing now. Well, she would bet that he wasn't thinking about her, or what effect she had on him. She took a sip from the cup and scalded her lip. Cursing, she went to her desk and switched on her computer, beginning to write the next chapter and hoping to lose herself in someone else's life.

* * *

_Please, pretty please review! They give me inspiration and make me feel all warm and fluffy. It doesn't take long - a word,a smiley... anonymous or signed, all are appreciated, its good to know what you think!_

_Many thanks to all those who have taken their time to review, may you have pleasant dreams involving whoever you desire... (It's been a long day,now in a slightly wacky mood - too much sugar.)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

* * *

**

Chapter 5 – Hotter

As the day had broke the sky was clear, the rain clouds had drained themselves leaving vacant spill of blue, the weather redressing itself in a glory of heat and humidity, causing some to celebrate and others to act out rain dances in their heads. Every sign of the torrential downpours had been evaporated and even early on the hints were there that the high temperatures had returned with a vengeance.

Brennan woke in her own bed, feeling the heat immediately and throwing the duvet off her. She glanced at her alarm clock, wondering if she had overslept having not yet heard the thundering call of her alarm clock. It was still early, almost too early, and she had clearly been awoken by the heat and the bright light streaming in through the window. She sat up, rubbing her face with her hands and wiping the sleep from her eyes. She felt tired and exhausted, even after having slept soundly, something she had thought she would not have been able to do after the events of yesterday. Her writing had gone some way to soothing her, enabling her to express herself through the protected means of fictional characters, projecting any feelings on to them and allowing them to deal with it for her. Naturally, she hoped this was done in a way that would hide the actual emotion behind it, trying to keep her distance from them, as with everything else.

She pulled open the curtains and looked at the day in front of her. Everywhere seemed still and unspoilt by either voices or bad news and she drank in its serenity. It was a Sunday, and the world always seemed to sleep late on a Sunday. Leaving the curtains open, she padded barefoot downstairs, heading for the kitchen and coffee to provide the jump start that she needed. Glancing in the mirror as she walked by she noticed how her hair hung, limp and flat against her face. Her skin was too pale after too many late nights working and early mornings, sometimes with no sleep in between, one day pretty much shading into the next one and her eyes lacked any shine they had once contained. She felt a sudden sense of relief that Booth was not there to witness her looking like she did and then sighed deeply at how inappropriately his name had fallen into her head.

She found a hair tie in a drawer and tied her hair up, pinching her cheeks to give them some colour. Never had she been concerned with her appearance, and now she was worrying over what Booth would think. She remembered her heart singing when he had told her that him and Tessa had finished and she recalled the way she had felt when their hands had touched, finger intertwining, and the expression on his face when he had looked up at her. He was such a solid man; she knew that she could rely on him for pretty much anything, including saving her life.

She closed her eyes momentarily, savouring the smell of the freshly brewed coffee and feeling just a little more alive. She saw the paper boy fly passed the house on his bike and ignored the sight, feeling no urge to know what was going on in the land of politics and gossip. She had certain sites on the internet that she would visit in order o find out what she needed to know, hence her complete lack of knowledge about pop culture.

Brennan sat down at the breakfast bar, coffee cradled in her hands. She had reached a particularly difficult point with her characters and couldn't see how she was going to get them out of a situation they had gotten themselves into. Forcing herself to think about plot instead of Agent Booth the sound of a phone ringing fell into the background, and it was only when she heard the answering machine click that she broke from her alternate reality.

"Bones," she heard a faint growl coming from the machine. "I know you'll be up, and I've already tried the lab so you're either at home or on your way in – unless your date took a flight back and you're busy. Call me."

She heard the click to say the call had ended and exhaled deeply as silence fell again. What did he mean, unless her date had flown back? Why was he bothering to think of such possibilities, although it had hardly been a possibility after his territorial spraying in the restaurant?

Dropping off the stool she wandered into the living room, over to the answer machine and played back Booth's message. He hadn't explained why he was calling, or even given a hint of the reason for ringing before seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. She hovered over the delete button, half wanting to play back the message again. If Angela was here now she'd have been analysing the tone of his voice, reading things into it that weren't there.

Brennan picked up the receiver and dialled his number, not even having to check it in her address and phone book. It barely rang before he picked up the call.

"Bones?" He asked, sounding half surprised.

"You called me, and asked to ring you back," she said, her voice a little croaky.

"Yeah, I know, I made the call. I'm near the lab as I thought you'd be there by now," he explained. She felt a well of annoyance deepening inside her at his assumption that all she did was work. She knew he was coming to that conclusion as she did spend a lot more time at her place of work than the average person, put his statement now and his surprise at her being on a date on Friday did not impress her; in fact they actually hurt her feelings slightly.

"No, I'm at home, wearing my pyjamas and drinking a cup of coffee. Booth, I don't know if you've noticed, but it's not even seven o'clock on a Sunday morning," she sighed.

"But this is you I'm talking to, and I have known you to be at work at this time on a Sunday after not being home for three days straight!" He argued back. She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see.

"You're rolling your eyes at me aren't you," he said, breaking the pause in conversation. "Can I come over?"

She felt a flustered feeling rise within her. She knew she looked a mess. "How long will you be?"

"Fifteen minutes," he answered. He was obviously already driving toward her house.

"I'll put the door on the latch so you can let yourself in," she said, wondering just how quick she could get ready.

"No, I'd rather wait on the doorstep for half an hour than you do that. You don't know what opportunist is passing by. Promise me you won't do that," he demanded. She wanted to react to the tone in his voice and refuse, telling him she could take care of herself, but instead she was silent.

"Bones? I know that any intruder would ending up with broken limbs from you, but please, keep the door locked, if just to humour me," he voice had softened.

"Okay," she agreed. "But can I at least tell you where the spare key is. I need a shower and might still be in the bathroom when you get here," she explained.

"Please don't tell me you keep a spare key under the plant pot outside your front door?" A sarcastic note tinged his words.

"No," how stupid did he think she was? "It's in the shed at the back of the house, under the ant powder," she told him.

"That's not that much better," he berated her.

"I have no one to hold a spare for me, so I need to keep a key somewhere in case I ever have my bag stolen," she knew that her statement gave away her solitary life.

"Why not give one me?" He asked. She caught sight of her hair again in the mirror. Shower, quick.

"Because I would not want to disturb you at some ridiculous time in the morning," she retorted, pulling out the hair tie.

"It's okay to rely on someone, Bones," she heard an almost laugh in his voice.

"Then I rely on you to let yourself in and make fresh coffee while I'm in the shower," she hung up, racing back upstairs, not wanting to be upstairs for too long once he had arrived.

-----------------------------

Booth's head was filled with images of Bones hidden behind a steamy shower screen. His imagination persistently kept trying to take him beyond the screen, but resolve held him back, knowing he would have trouble trying to look her in the eye after having thought like that, although he had managed in the past.

He found the key where she said it would be, the bolt on the shed door creaking when he opened it. The shed was sparse, filled with a bag of soil and old plastic plant pots and various bug killers. Very little was there to define it as belonging to Brennan.

He unlocked her front door and wandered in, pulling off his shoes and leaving them at the door, not wanting to soil her carpets. He could hear the shower stop and the image of Bones with a towel draped round her crept into his mind. He managed to distract himself before the towel fell off.

She had already made coffee that morning, he could tell as the beans were still out. He hunted around the kitchen for mugs and set to making the drink, noticing the starkness of her kitchen with its clean whiteness and spotless surfaces. For some reason he had fantasized about Bones' house being filled with unusual oddments and knick knacks, but he had been wrong. He eyed the fridge before removing the milk, remembering another time he had been here.

He sat down by the breakfast bar, his stare lingering on the kitchen table where she had been writing, her notes and laptop still spread out. He felt tempted to go and take a peak, but knew by doing so he would be abusing her trust. She didn't like anyone to read her work before it was published. He was curious though, about the male lead in her books and who she had based him on. He knew she swore blind that he was purely a figment of her imagination, but he thought that inspiration must have stemmed from somewhere.

"Morning," he heard from behind him. He twisted round and saw Bones dressed in a white robe, her hair still wet from her shower, towel in her hands from having dried it. She looked radiant, her skin and eyes glowing, and her hair falling damply down. He felt a more than fleeting jolt of lust, and didn't quite know what to say.

"You found your way in okay?" She asked, drying off the ends of her hair and sitting beside him at the breakfast bar. He pushed the mug of coffee he had made for her her way.

"You shouldn't keep a key in a place like that," he scolded. "If someone went in there to see if there were valuables…" he began.

"They would be very disappointed," she finished for him. "I know, Booth. But I need a spare key to be kept some where."

"Leave it with me," he suggested. Looking at her he read her thoughts. "I would never let myself in uninvited – you know that, Bones," he strongly assured, a little perturbed that she would think he'd take advantage.

She shook her head. "I know. Maybe you'd best keep it," she said, surprising him. She must have read the expression on his face. "I do trust you, Booth," she added, then glanced at the fridge.

He laughed, his hand cupping his coffee. She smiled back at him and he realised how close they were sitting, feeling a palpable energy between them. This felt comfortable, he realised. Even just out of the shower, with no make up on, none of her chunky jewellery, she was still beautiful like Tessa had never been.

He knew he was staring, and Bones was looking at him with a wondering expression on her face. But she hadn't moved away from him, which he took as a good sign.

"How come you're up so early?" She asked.

"It's not that early," he replied, his voice serious but quiet. "I have a case to solve."

"_We_ have a case to solve," she corrected, smiling.

"You've forgiven me then, for interrupting your date?" He said with a grin, maintaining eye contact.

The smile stayed on her lips and she tilted her head to one side. "I suppose so. There's no way I wouldn't have helped you with this," she replied, in the same soft tone as he had used.

"That's not what you were saying when I interrupted your cosy chat," he answered, not sure what he was digging for, maybe for her to say that she hadn't been that into her date any way.

She shook her head, he eyes meeting his still. She hadn't looked away yet, almost as if she was competing with him. He felt something enlarge in his chest, and a yearning to kiss her. He felt his lips burn with the impulse and rubbed them with his fingers, trying to erase the sensation. "He wasn't serious, Booth. It would have been a very casual, one night affair, that might have become longer if we'd met up again to discuss the paper. That was never a certainty, though."

He felt a little relief for knowing that she hadn't been in love with him, although jealousy still kicked at his insides that she'd been wanting to spend the night with him. A multitude of confusing thoughts rained down on him at the naming of the feeling, and a little realisation dawned, denial blackening into night. "I never would have thought of you as being the type for a one night stand," he responded, his eyes dropping to the exposed skin where the bath robe folded.

"Just because you think I'm a squint doesn't mean I don't have the same human urges as you," she retorted, standing up and putting her empty mug into the dishwasher.

"Sure, Bones. I just hope that some of your colleagues are really robots and therefore the picture I have in my mind is completely the work of waking nightmares," he replied. The picture in his mind was of a different type of dream altogether.

"If by that you mean Zack and Hodgins then I can assure you that I would rather think of them that way too," she answered. He laughed lightly, appreciating her humour. "What are we doing today?" She asked. "You wanted to see me for a reason."

His eyes were still stuck on her, glued to her almost every moment. He had had a reason for wanting to see her, but at that moment couldn't clearly remember what it was; just that he knew as soon as he woke up from a fitful night's sleep that she was what he needed to start the day off right. "I have the details for Thomas' principal and class teacher. Also the parents of his best friend, so I thought we might go pay them a visit," he explained when he had structured his thoughts.

Bones nodded. He imagined she had expected this. He had toyed with the idea of leaving the interviews until Monday, when he would be able to visit the school, and get some sense of Thomas' life. It was also the last place he was seen before he went missing, and Booth knew in his gut that the school played a part in his fate. However, he also felt a strange urgency about the case, and the chance to speak to the principal and the teacher out of their environments was an interesting prospect. Away from their working environment they might be more inclined to let pieces of information slip, and any information at this could give them the lead they were desperate for.

Bones began to head toward the exit. "I'll go get dressed," she said in response. He smiled. That meant taking off the robe. His imagination could play with that notion while he waited.

-----------------------------

It was nine thirty by the time they arrived at the house of Thomas' principal and although there were signs of life beginning to spring up around the streets of suburbia, Booth knew that it was a little early to be knocking on people's doors. However, he had a job to do, so Mrs Alexandra Dunn was going to be disturbed from her peaceful Sunday morning.

Her curtains were pulled back, so at least he wouldn't be waking her, and therefore she might be in a better mood than she would have been. There was also the possibility that she was about to go to church, which could go either one of two ways.

Bones knocked on the door, loudly banging the rather traditional knocker hard enough to wake anyone in the neighbourhood who was still sleeping. She returned his glare, and he let a grin slip. He liked those little looks she gave him; he liked the fact that he could torment her more than anyone else.

"It's a big house; she might be in the garden," she explained.

He nodded. "She might," he responded. "She might also have been playing Black Sabbath extremely loudly, but she would certainly have heard that." He waited for the usual catchphrase of 'I don't know what that means', but none came. He looked at her puzzled.

"I do know that Black Sabbath are a rock band fronted by a man from Birmingham, England called Ozzy Osbourne," she retorted.

His eyes widened in surprise, but before he had a chance to ask how, or expire with shock, the door had opened and before them stood a woman who looked least like a principal of a school than anyone else he's ever met.

She had blonde hair that grew to just past her shoulders, and a clear, tanned complexion. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, accentuated by carefully applied make up. He felt Bones stiffen besides him, and wondered if she had noticed the woman's appearance.

"We're from the FBI," he began his usual spiel of identifying himself and introducing Bones. Mrs Dunn led them through the house to the garden, not asking what they were here for. They sat down on a recently done patio, looking out over a lawn that hadn't suffered in the recent heat.

She didn't offer them refreshments, merely holding a silence while they adjusted to their surrounds.

"I suppose you're here about Thomas Dyer," she said eventually. Bones and Booth both nodded. "How can I help?"

"We need to know a little about him, what he was like in school, and what happened the day he went missing," Booth told her, taking his shades from out of his jacket pocket. He also removed his jacket, hanging it over the back of the garden chair. It was a hot day already, the sky crystal clear and completely absent from clouds. The sun was burning hot, and the air was fast losing any freshness it had from after the rain.

"I am not one of those principal who claims to know every child on a personal level," she explained, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "As far as I knew Thomas was a good child, fairly intelligent, but not remarkable in the scheme of things. He never had any trouble, otherwise I would know far more about him. His parents seemed keen and interested, turning up for parents' days and taking part in P.T.A. events, but aside from that I can barely picture him. That sounds harsh, I know," she nodded. "But my job is to run a school and not to befriend every child; that would be impossible."

He saw Brennan nod in response and wondered if she found any similarities with this other woman, obvious very much a professional. "There were no children that you did have a bond with?" She inquired. The woman shook her head. "I find that impossible to believe. Did you start as a teacher?"

"I did. But it was my goal to become a head. I didn't particularly like teaching, but it was a rung up the ladder," she explained, calmly, totally unperturbed by Bones' line of questioning. Booth sat back and decided to let his partner do the talking. He had a feeling that she was the best person to deal with this job.

"So how did you feel when you found this boy had gone missing?" Bones asked, a querying look on her face.

"Obviously it was upsetting for the school as a whole and it caused some panic with out parents and children alike. Personally – yes, it was upsetting, but I still had a job to do," she answered, the epitome of calm.

"The responsibility comes back to you. He was in your care when he went missing," Bones argued. Booth felt that she was hitting the right line with this woman. Clearly she was more concerned with the running of her establishment than the well being of the children that went there. He resolved to be very careful when agreeing to Rebecca's choice of school.

"It did. However, we encourage parents to contact us if they are going to be late in collecting there children. He was watched leaving the premises by his class teacher, as she was certain that she saw him getting into a car that she recognised. From what Elizabeth Merrell has said, Thomas looked perfectly happy and unconcerned, she had no reason to be worried for his safety," the head answered coolly.

"There was no detail given on the police reports of the car. That wasn't even reported," Booth interrupted. "Neither you nor Miss Merrell said that you had seen Thomas get into a car, or provided a description of it. That was crucial evidence and could have been used to trace him. Other people may have also noticed the vehicle and you neglected to tell us!" He felt himself fume.

"Miss Merrell was understandably distressed for some time after. It was only recently that she recalled these details," Mrs. Dunn replied.

"You mean Thomas' parents got curious about how no one picked up on the fact that he went missing on the way out of school when he should have been supervised, but probably wasn't," Brennan snapped. Booth smothered a laugh.

"Talk like that could cause issues for my school, Dr. Brennan, and what cause do you have to be involved in this case anyway?" The head stood up, obviously having decided that it was now time for them to leave.

"She's my partner and she also carried out the examination of the bones we found that we believe belong to Thomas Dyer, Mrs. Dunn," Booth added, also standing. "His case has gone from missing to murder. We will need to visit your school in the morning and speak with your staff and maybe some of Thomas' friends, obviously with their parents consent. Obviously Thomas' teacher will be a high priority to talk to, in the light of this new evidence."

"Miss Merrell is no longer a member of staff at Greenhold," she announced, nostrils flaring.

"We will be going to see her later on today," Booth announced, an unspoken war going on between them.

"You may have trouble with that," Mrs. Dunn informed him. "She's moved out of town also. And no, I don't have a forwarding address."

Booth nodded at her, his friendliest expression on his face. "Be assured we will manage to track her down, Mrs. Dunn." She ushered them out of her house, saying nothing more.

"We'll see you tomorrow," he said, smiling, before turning round and grimacing enough that it was painful.

He unlocked the car and Bones jumped in. He followed, laying his jacket down on the back seat and rolling up his shirt sleeves. The car felt like a furnace and the steering wheel was almost too hot to touch. He started the ignition and put the air conditioning on full, noticing how Bones' hair blew a little.

"She's covering up what actually happened," Bones said once they had started moving.

"I think you hit the nail on the head with your idea of what actually went on," he said.

"Nail on the head – explained something exactly?" She clarified.

"Precisely," he nodded.

"Where to now?" She asked. "The teacher's place is out of the question."

He shook his head. "Not at all. That's the first place we'll go, because if she is no longer there, then hopefully there will be someone who can tell us where she moved to and why."

-----------------------------

The forty minutes it took to get to the address they had for Elizabeth Merrell was some of the hottest minutes Brennan had ever spent inside a car. The temperature was soaring, and even with the air conditioning on it was uncomfortably hot. She half wished for the rain to return, and cool everything down, knowing that the day was only going to become increasingly humid.

The conversation in the car varied between moans about the weather and the case. Booth was clearly concerned about the likelihood of another child being taken, or another body turning up. The whole manner of the crime was worrisome; clearly someone with intelligence had carried it out. She silently agreed with him that this was someone who had done this for pleasure. Any convenience killer would not have wanted the body to have been found. This was someone, who like Booth said, wanted to be chased.

Elizabeth Merrell's house was in a run down area almost as far removed from her former boss' as possible. The windows were filthy and the front garden unkempt and strewn with litter. A bark from a dog sounded from inside as they walked up the uneven path to the door.

A woman answered Booth's knock – the doorbell wasn't working – and looked warily at them.

"John's gone, he doesn't live here anymore," she said defensively.

"Actually," Booth began, showing her his I.D. "We're looking for Elizabeth Merrell."

"Lizzie?" She said, her face relaxing and a soft smile breaking out. "She's moved."

"We will need the address?" Brennan stepped in.

The woman eyed her with suspicion. "I'm not sure I should do."

"We need to speak with her in connection with a murder of a young boy who was in her class. She may know some useful information," Booth said, keeping his tone calm.

"Lizzie said I wasn't to talk to the police about where she'd gone," the woman looked a little worried.

"Mrs…" Booth began, looking for name to be given to him.

"Merrell," she filled in. "I'm Lizzie's aunt."

"Mrs Merrell, she's not in any trouble, we're just looking for her help," he pacified. The woman seemed to be softening under Booth's gaze, and Brennan realised that Booth was giving her one of his most charming looks. Brennan resisted the temptation to send him a glare.

"She's moved to Westbridge," Mrs Merrell informed them.

Brennan eyed the house that she was standing in front of and thought of Westbridge which was rather upmarket and an expensive place to live.

"Why has she moved to Westbridge?" She asked pointedly, looking at Elizabeth's aunt.

The woman sighed in annoyance. "She got given some money so she moved there. It's better than a dump like this! What's it to you any how?"

"Where did she get the money from to move to Westbridge?" Brennan pursued the topic.

The woman shrugged. "It came from somewhere. Maybe it was redundancy from when she left that school, I don't know. You don't ask no questions round here when good things happen like that," her face transformed into a sulky expression and she looked to be closing the door. "If you're done, I need to go feed the dog." The dog was still barking, standing on the back of chair and looking out of the window.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Merrell," Booth gave her his best smile once more. "I don't suppose you would make our life easier and give her Elizabeth's address?"

"Seventy-five Woodlands," she responded sharply, before closing the door with a slam.

"I'm surprised she gave us that information," she said to Booth.

He grinned. "It's amazing what a bit of jealousy can do. She's still stuck here and her niece is living the high life in Westbridge. Resentment is always useful," his arrogant tone grazed the words.

"Where do you think she got the money from?" Brennan asked him, not condescending to become flustered and try to deflate his ego. It was too hot and she was sure there would be other times.

"The principal. Ultimately, it was Alexandra Dunn's responsibility to see that children who weren't collected were safe until their guardian came for them. She could possibly be sued and lose her job. I would think that she's coerced Elizabeth into lying, and created a scenario whereby her school cannot be at fault, and paid Elizabeth off for her trouble," Booth theorised.

They got back in car, the heat grappling with them as they sat down.

"Shall we stop for drinks on the way?" Booth asked, giving her a look that would remain imprinted on her memory for the foreseeable future.

"If we don't we may become dehydrated," she said, ignoring the fact that her stomach was doing flips. With his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned he looked delicious. The way he drove, so in control, seemed appealing today, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have his hands on her.

He laughed a little wryly. She eyed him, wondering what had caused the amusement. He turned his head briefly, his eyes containing a fire that almost burnt her. "You always make me dehydrated, Bones," he murmured, a chortle in his tone.

"I don't know what that means."

* * *

_See that little button there? The one that says 'review'? Well, press that and you can let me know what you think of the __chapter, or the story so far. So, any lurkers reading this on the sly when they should be working, please review!_

_I'm havingloads of hits, but only a small percentage of reviews. I would really appreciate it if some of you could let me know how the story is going._

_Thank to all those who have - you make me smile... I hope your dreams came true. (Mine involved Hodgins and Booth!) _


	6. Chapter 6

**_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. On the Tamora Pierce fanfic pages we used to do shout outs at the top of each chapter to reviewers. I miss that here. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this fic so far. It's very motivational and inspiring, so thanks again, and I hope you have happy weekend dreams staring your favourite characters/actors/people._**

**_Fluff warning. Be prepared._

* * *

**

Chapter 6 – Water on the Flame

The mercury was now almost boiling itself, and the whole of the state seemed to have come to a stand still, the air just too hot to even consider moving. Booth had dropped Bones off at the lab and had headed home to change into something cooler. He had no intentions of visiting anyone else today, so the suit would be discarded in to the ever growing pile of dry cleaning that he looked at with some distress. Tessa had used to take care of his dry cleaning. He realised that that was perhaps the only thing he missed about her, quite a sad fact after all the time they spent together.

The teacher had confirmed what they needed to know, with her nervous manner and contradiction of the details given by her former boss, rather than direct words. She had stammered her way through a carefully scripted version of what had actually happened the day of Thomas' disappearance and had actually cried when they revealed that his body had been found. Clearly she had enjoyed her job and adored the children she had taught while she had been at the school, and had merely had the unfortunacy to work for someone like Alexandra Dunn. Booth had left his contact details with the teacher, fully expecting her to call and unload the particulars about the day in question, once her guilt had fully caught up with her.

He pulled on light, casualtrousers and a thin T-shirt after taking a cold shower, erasing the clammy feeling from his skin. The weather was a little on the hot side for him; nothing he hadn't experienced before, but still, he was uncomfortable. The humidity was oppressive, and he felt an atmosphere build about the case, feeling that they were short of time, but wasn't quite sure why. The sense made him frustrated, and he kept running through all the pieces in his head, trying to click them together in a myriad of ways, but nothing would fit.

Booth headed back to the lab in his car, knowing that Bones would have called the rest of the squints in to recap over evidence, pouring over every inch of what they had, trying to find something that could pin point where the body had been kept before it had been abandoned outside. As he thought of the anthropologist his mood settled, and the heat no longer seemed so abrasive. He remembered the morning, having coffee in her kitchen and he felt the impression of her key that was back in his pocket brand him. He knew it meant nothing; she knew it was a stupid idea to have a key kept in her shed, particularly after what had happened previously, and he was convenient.

He recalled the feeling of having her in his arms, holding her against his chest, feeling her tense body against his and longed to have that sensation again, although under better circumstances that her being kidnapped. A thought occurred to him – there was a formal function at the end of the week that he was supposed to have attended with Tessa, although she would obviously not be going. He debated asking Bones, and wondered what the odds were of her accepting. He knew she hated things like dances, he had heard her protest enough in the past about the inconvenience of having to attend them. He wondered if she would go with him if he asked her quite formally, and then he realised he was considering asking Bones on a date and nearly didn't break in time, just stopping short of ploughing into the tailgate of the car in front and now being on the receiving end of several rude signs being made by the car's driver. He mouthed a few choice words back before taking a turn avoiding the rest of the traffic. Clearly he was too distracted to drive in traffic.

When he got to the lab he saw her, bent over papers on her desk, an expression of concentration etched on her face. She wasn't aware of him being there, too engrossed in what she was doing to notice that someone had entered her space.

For a minute he watched her, a smile hinting as she worked something out, fingers flicking through papers, eyes scanning information. Auburn hair fell into her face; she moved it with slim fingers, tidying it behind her ear. He realised he could watch her forever, never getting tired of her movements and mannerisms. Finally she looked up, eyes fixing upon him.

"Booth," she said in greeting. "You changed."

"It's too hot for suits," he responded, edging closer to her. He felt a sense of trepidation as he neared, the anticipation of being in her close proximity almost too much. He felt an atmosphere between them, one that was causing silence to remain. Her eyes flicked up at him every few seconds, checking where he was, and then pretending to ignore him. He got to her desk, standing beside her, looking at the sprawl of papers that were seemingly holding her attention.

They didn't touch, her arm didn't even brush up against his, but he felt electrified by her presence. He heard the rustling of the pages as she hurried through them, and the gentle blow of the air condition that was doing nothing to cool his fervour. He knew he couldn't take his eyes off her, his mind wondering what it would be like to touch her hair, to caress her hands lightly with his fingertips, to pull her to him and find her lips on his. She stopped what she was doing and looked up, and his gaze froze.

As she turned her bodyto him, he realised how close they actually were, and as she focused on him, no words interrupting their eye contact, he felt the thickening of the tense atmosphere and knew that she was not unaware of the tension between them. She was feeling it too. She stayed put, not moving; there was no attempt to break the look or move away, even if he was too far into her personal space. He found himself wetting his lips, edging even closer to her. She mirrored his actions and he noticed that she was looking at his mouth.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth," Zack entered, unaware of the chemistry that was currently flowing between his boss and her partner. The link had been broken and both Booth and Bones backed away. Booth found himself mentally cursing Zack and wishing for away to turn back time and have him delayed somewhere before he had gotten to them.

"I think I've worked out exactly what the bones were soaked in before the body was left outside," he now had Bones' full attention. Booth felt mildly jealous, as if he wished that he had been the one to work it out. He shook his head slightly in disbelief at himself. He was wishing he were a squint.

"I though we couldn't get it narrowed down any further than bleach?" She said, frowning.

"I ran some tests, comparing every day household bleaches, none matched. Anyway, I've matched it to an industrial bleach, commonly used by cleaning franchises. It's meant to be diluted, so if the body was soaked in it when it was concentrate then it would have pretty much eaten away at the skin. I'm running some tests now to see how quickly it could have acted," Zack explained.

"Well done, Zack," Bones praised. "It could give us a more precise time of death."

"I'll go back to doing it," he said, almost nervously now his moment in the spotlight had ended. "I obviously interrupted a moment there." His eyes skipped between the two of them. Booth was surprised to neither hear Bones' denying it nor looking confused. Zack scuttled.

"That's where we need to start," Booth said quietly, wondering if they would be able to conjure back the magic that had been between them, wondering if Bones would let it happen again.

"With the time of death?" She asked, stepping closer to him again.

He felt a little tongue tied with her nearness. "No, with where the body was kept. Where it was soaked in bleach," he corrected.

"That could be almost anywhere, Booth, we don't have a starting point," she reasoned.

He nodded. "We do," he began, her body heat combining with his. "We disregard the idea that he was picked up in a car and work on the theory that he went back into the school. Elizabeth Merrell said that he was a good kid. If he hadn't have seen his mother then he would have gone straight back into the building. We start from there."

"Now?" She asked.

Booth shook his head. "I don't think now's a good idea. We should go when the rest of the kids are there, and the staff. I've tried calling his best friend's parents, to see them about asking a few questions and speaking with their son, but there's no answer. If we're at the school tomorrow morning then we'll get the full spectrum of people – cleaners, teachers, parents on the school run and office staff."

She nodded in agreement. "What do we do till then?"

"I think we should go over exactly what we know, and see if we can get any more of these jigsaw pieces to fit," he answered, feeling a little frustrated. Ideally he would have like to have gone immediately to the school, but Alexandra Dunn had already called Cullen and made a complaint about him, and Cullen had warned him to take it easy with the school. Mrs. Dunn's husband was a rather powerful lawyer, and Cullen had advised caution where she was concerned, and suggested getting a warrant before any attempt as made to look around the school. Booth knew that should they uncover any evidence to prove that due care and attention had been taken of the boy, then Mrs. Dunn's career would be over, with the possibility of a lawsuit in the process. "I called in a favour from a judge and requested a warrant to search the premises," he told Bones. "We'll get it tomorrow."

"I think we should go and look at the area where the body was found, see if there's anything there to help us," she responded.

"The heavy rain will have washed any evidence away," Booth said, frowning.

"It may also have uncovered things left behind," she shrugged.

"We can have a look at the possible paths he took to get to the site as well. Obviously they weren't looked at on Friday," he nodded.

"I'll just let Zack know we're going," she said, her attention waning from him and walking off to find her young protégée.

He stared after her. This case was a stinker. But there were worse people to be working it with.

--------------------------------

They parked in the same place as they had done on Friday night; Brennan just about recognised it in different weather and bright light. She had changed clothes, and was now wearing cotton fatigues and a sleeveless top, having made Booth stop at her place before they travelled to the river. The rains had ceased in a dramatic fashion, and now the sun was at its hottest, blazing over them as they walked across the still slightly damp fields that separated them from the river, no trees to provide shade.

She looked at Booth, liking what she saw. He was wearing casual clothes now, instead of his trademark suit and she found the look rather appealing. They walked casually, it was too hot to try to be speedy, and the heat had a rather soporific effect, slowing everything down, including Brennan.

The day seemed almost stagnant; after the whirlwind of the morning the pace had dawdled down to a crawl, the sun stilling whatever it shone on. They walked side by side, arms almost touching, and Brennan didn't feel inclined to move. The mood that would have been created by the brilliant sunshine was tainted by the reason they were here like a shadow crossing their path. She wondered what it would be like to be here with Booth without having a case to work on, whether they would be here at all. She felt his presence without having to touch him, just as she had done in the lab before Zack had arrived.

She glanced up at him and saw him looking at her. He gave her a small smile and quickly looked away, and she resisted the temptation to move her hand closer to his, although for some reason that seemed the most natural thing in the world right now.

They arrived at the spot where Booth had found the body, the dislodged soil from where the body had been and the officers had stood still evident. They moved to it, Brennan noticing the still heavy flow of the river below, and feeling a little grudging respect for Booth for making sure that the body had not met a watery end. It had been precariously close to the edge, and given the force of the rain on the night it had been discovered it could quite easily have fallen into the river. He had secured it well, minimising the amount of trace left on it from him, although the rain had gotten rid of everything that had been there. The blanket was currently being analysed by the FBI's forensics unit, but she was curious to have alook herself and had urged Booth to have it brought to the lab. Clearly the body had been wrapped in it by the murder; any information it could give them about where it had been before would be crucial, given that they currently had so little to go on.

She knelt down by where Thomas' bones had been found and rubbed fingers through the earth. It was good soil, kept moist by the rushing river. She looked up and saw Booth's eyes scanning the banks, then turning back to look at from where they had come. She stood up and stepped over to him, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked the same direction as he did.

"Which direction do you think he came from?" She asked.

He pulled a face, looking as if he was really thinking about the question. "I think he came from across the river," he answered, turning back and viewing the body of water. "The phone call was made two hours before the rain began. I think he called before he dumped the body."

"That would have been a risk. What if he'd been disturbed, and couldn't do it. The rain came suddenly, so there may have been people about," she reasoned.

Booth nodded, leading her further down the river to ward the bend before where it was a popular spot for fishermen.

"It was forecast; and anyone with an ounce of intelligence would have known that rain was on its way. The humidity had been high for days and it had to break at some point," he argued back. "So a lot of people would already be back at home, and the river would have been quiet. I think he took his chances on how quick someone would be here though, and he probably knows the area quite well."

"Why do you think he crossed the river?" She asked, looking back at where they had come from.

"There were no tire tracks around the scene," he answered. "I don't think he would have chanced going across the fields with a blanket covering a body."

"So he went across the river instead," she looked at him, meeting his brown eyes with her blue ones.

"He moved through the woods," he pointed to the dense growth of trees on the other bank. "And then crossed the river – probably around where I did -it would have been even shallower given that it hadn't rained yet - and abandoned the body."

"Then how did he get back?" She inquired.

"Same way; back over the river," Booth came to a stop just past the bend in the water. He looked down at the river. "This was where I crossed." She looked down and imagined the scramble he had had to get back up the bank, particularly when it had been pouring with rain, making everything incredibly slippy.

"I know, I'm a strong guy," he smirked. She hated it when he guessed what she was thinking. She responded with a glare, which made him smirk all the more. "Fancy taking a dip?" She heard him ask.

"What?"

"If we go a little further down the stream it really does get shallow. We need to get across and check out those woods, so the quickest way to do it is to wade," he explained. "Scared of getting your hair wet?"

That did it. She began to hurry, ignoring the heat blaring down and almost jogging to the point here meant. She had been at the river at one or two times before, helping to identify a set of remains that had been discovered a couple of years back that had turned out to be from an eighteenth century male, who had appeared to have died from natural causes.

The bank was only slightly above the water level, and that was barely above her knee. She bent down and dipped her finger in the water, hearing Booth laugh behind her.

"Too cold, Bones?"

With her back to him she scooped up a handful of water and splashed him with it, knowing the cold would contrast almost painfully with the heat of the day. He gasped in shook and began to wade into the water, following her, and splashing her as much as he could. She found herself laughing as he scooped up more water, wetting her hair. Looking around she spotted a clump of dead reeds that had been torn up by the ranging storm and were now flowing down the river. She grabbed hold of them as quickly as she could, hoping Booth just though she was dipping for more water. She kept her back to him, waiting for him to sneak up on her. Sensing his closeness instinctively she turned around, and reaching up, stuffed the reeds down his back. She imagined they would feel horrible; a little slimy and very wet, but the look of surprise on his face was worth any revenge he might take.

"That does it, Bones," he threatened and she began to run through the water, laughter coming from both of them. He was quicker than her and caught her easily. He bent and scooped her up; picking her up in his armslike she weighed no more than Parker. He began to wade to where the depth of the water increased, and she started to struggle, knowing what he had in mind for her. Her arms went round his neck, seeking security and knowing that by gripping him, he would have to plunge into the water too if he dumped her in it.

She protested wildly, threatening all colours of nastiness if he soaked her, but he just chuckled infuriatingly and she found herself laughing along with the promises of seven different types of revenge.

"Whatever form of torture you come up with I'm sure I'll enjoy," he said wickedly, his eyes twinkling at her as he began to sink down into the deeper water. He plunged them both in, the cool water almost refreshing after the burning heat. She found he'd kept hold of her round her waist, and her arms had not yet loosened from around his neck, their bodies pressed close with only wet clothing creating a barrier between them. She felt his heart pounding through the material as her feet landed on the river bed, the water coming up to the top of her arms.

He hadn't let go of her, and now they were both silent, only the sounds of a few children playing in the river a little way away, the whispering of the breeze through the trees and the rippling of the water breaking the peace. She recalled the scene earlier when he had been stood in the lab for several minutes, watching her as she worked, oblivious to the fact that she was aware of his every move. Then the air had become filled with the same tension as now, only to be broken by Zack, who officially had the worst timing ever.

And now Zack wasn't here, and she was caught in his arms not wanting to get out, her eyes looking into his and seeing herself reflected in them. The warmth of his body merged into hers, now oblivious to the cold of the water.

"Bones," she heard him say, his mouth just inches away from hers. "You haven't tried to kill me yet."

"I'm not going to kill you, Booth," she answered, her fingers now slowly sliding into his hair. She felt him shiver at her touch and the scenery around her, the weeping willows and wild flowers, all began to blur and disappear.

"Is this something you read about in that book about how to deal with your co-workers?" He asked, his voice not much more that a murmur.

"I've never been held this close by Hodgins," she said with a smile.

"Good," she heard him say.

Then a wave of panic went through her. She was wrapped in the arms of her working partner who had just split up from his girlfriend. She released her hold on him, and the moment between them was shattered. His arms loosened and their touch broke, and suddenly the water felt too cold and she wanted to get out.

"We should go and have a look round those trees and dry off," she told him, a faint quiver in her voice. Her body had reacted to Booth and she ached for his touch to return, a part of her kicking herself for notallowing what had seemed to be inevitable.

He didn't reply, just followed her to the bank and climbed out after her. She felt disappointed that he had not tried to resume what was happening between them. Turning round to face him she found he wouldn't look her in the eye. Her logical brain began to curse herself – why had she moved away? Why had she panicked? Clearly she found him attractive, and those feelings were reciprocated, he wouldn't have held herso tightly or as close, or at all if he hadn't wanted something more. But where would 'more' lead them? He was arrogant, annoying and knew exactly how to push her buttons, yet she was craving him more than any man she'd been with before. His was her almost opposite; she relied on evidence, her went by his gut feeling; she was useless at reading people, that was how he did his job so well. Yet their principals were the same.

She walked blindly into the trees, the sun warming her and drying the light clothing quickly, even though they were in the shade. She didn't look at Booth, not needing the tumble of thoughts that it would create in her mind.

"Bones!" She heard him call. She stopped walking and headed to where his voice had come from.

He was stood next to a tree, looking down at a scrunched up bit of paper, surprisingly far from sodden due to its proximity to a large, sheltering bush. Her eyes opened wide when she saw what was printed on it.

---------------------------------

Booth was attempting to control the array of emotions swirling round his head. His thoughts seemed to be running in two different directions; some concerned Bones and what had just happened in the water, others were focusing on the case and the piece of evidence he now held in his hand.

He hadn't been surprised that she had pulled away; Bones had far too many barriers up to let people close easily, and although they had been partners and friends for sometime now he knew that any change in their relationship would be confusing for her, as it was for him. He felt disappointed – and immensely frustrated – that they hadn't kissed, although part of him was still elated that she had allowed him so near to her. Holding her in his arms had felt like the most natural, wonderful thing in the world, and he just hoped that wouldn't be the last time, but how did he make sure it wouldn't be? He looked at her quickly, she was staring at the paper in his hand and reading the words that were visible now he had unscrewed it.

"Greenhold Elementary School," she read out, looking at the faded letters. "It's a compliment slip that would be sent out with letters and such."

He nodded, noticing the way that her damp clothes clung to her. The heat from the sun was drying them quickly, there was no feeling of cold even in the shade, but the wet material showed off her shape and he was finding it hard to not pay more attention to her than to what they had found.

"We need to analyse this," he stated the obvious, trying to keep his eyes on the new discovery.

"You think the perp dropped it?" She said, taking hold gently of the slip.

He shrugged. "It has to be a possibility. It seems too much of a coincidence when the school is several miles away from here to find a compliment slip from the same school as Thomas when his body was buried just across the river." He stood up from where he had been crouched down and noticed that she was looking at him in a way to which he had been looking at her, noticing the way his t-shirt stuck to him. Her eyes rose to meet his and he felt the familiar feeling of mutual attraction, and knew that she was recalling the swim they had had. He didn't feel smug, or pleased that he had provoked that feeling in her; instead he was worried, how did he make it happen again?

"It could either be something that the boy had had with him on the day he was taken, or the murderer took it from the school," she said, her eyes hiding her emotions once more.

"I doubt it's from the boy," Booth said, pushing all thoughts of Bones' body to the back of his mind for perusal later, once he got home. "No clothes were found, and I can't see our guy dressing a near skeleton in clothes and then undressing him, so it won't have fallen out of Thomas' pocket."

"You think it's from the killer?" She said, frowning like she did when she was thinking deeply. He adored that look.

"Probably. Unless someone else from Greenhold School has been walking through these woods," he replied.

"We have to keep that in mind," she said, her voice full of impersonal professionalism.

Booth nodded, not really taking in what she had said. "Bones," he found himself saying, not quite knowing what was going to come out of his mouth yet.

"Booth," she mocked as he was taking awhile to get the next part of his sentence out.

"There's an FBI dinner on Saturday, and I was wondering if you'd come with me?" He stepped back and waited for the reply.

* * *

_And if you want to know what she says, you'll have to review! Anonymous, signed,smileys, long and short, all welcome and all bring a little joy!_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I apologise for the cliffhanger (laughs manically), but it was fun!_

* * *

**

**Chapter 7 – Drawings**

Brennan looked at him with surprise. Booth had just asked her out on a date. Suddenly she was unaware of his wet clothes and found that she was looking in on herself, seeing the barriers that she had cultivated over the years, and an attempted threat on them, some of them looking as though they might crumble under the weight of this strange feeling Booth had planted in her. He came into focus again; his face earnest and if anything a little shocked that he had actually asked her out.

"Are you asking me on a date, Booth?" She inquired, a little perturbed at the coolness in her voice.

"No, I just thought that you might like to go… I have an invite for me plus one, and thought… well, you know, I know formal things like this aren't really your style, but sometimes these FBI things are quite fun, and well…" he looked down at his feet and then back up at her, his disjointed sentence and obvious discomfort strangely endearing. "Goddamn it, Temperance! Yes! I'm asking you on a date!" He spat out.

She laughed, her cheeks feeling hotter than what the sun would have caused,like the first time she had been asked out when she had been at high school. He looked worried, and she realised he thought she was probably laughing at him.

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you, _Seeley_," she answered, her eyes dancing with amusement, partly at his reaction and partly at her own response and the feeling it had given her. She didn't understand how he had made her feel like this, but she knew it was pleasant, more than pleasant, if a little scary.

The smug look came over his face, the shock of her response evaporating. "I knew you couldn't resist me for much longer," he said. She sent him a mock glare and turned her head away in pretend disgust at his attitude, hearing him laugh lightly as she did so.

"Bones," she heard him say quietly, his tone soft, sending shivers down her spine. "Don't cancel on me will you?" She turned and faced him, his expression now serious. Something that had been frozen inside of her began to melt with the heat of the promises contained in the words. His eyes look beguilingly at her, seriousness encapsulated in his irises.

"I won't," she said a little tentatively. She didn't like formal events like the one he had described, but with the way he was looking at her she would have accompanied him to Mars, had such a thing been possible.

He nodded, and began walking around the area where he had discovered the paper. She crouched down, knowing that the conversation was finished – for now – and it was time to get on with what they were there to do.

Her fingers sifted through the soil, looking to see if anything else had been dropped. The ground was still slightly damp, not yet dried completely after the drenching, even with all of the sun that had been pouring out since. They scanned around the area for almost an hour, looking under bushes, upturning leaves and stones and any hollows in trees. Nothing further appeared. Any footprints had been erased by the rain, and any places that hadn't been rained upon hadn't held any traces that were visible.

Booth ended their search as the temperature increased, sweat covering his brow and frustration coating his expression. He shook his head, his eyes holding depths that she had never really noticed until now, at least noticed consciously anyway.

"Let's head back," he murmured, tossing a small stone he had found into the air. Brennan nodded, arching her back slightly, stretching.

"Are we going across the river again?" She asked, thinking of the paper that had been put into a plastic evidence bag, once the bag had dried out after their excursions in the river.

He nodded. "It's the quickest way back, and I promise not to dump you in the water this time," he said with a half sorrowful smile.

She wanted to tell him that it was a pity, that she would welcome another opportunity to be that close to him, feeling the heat of his body seep into hers, and his heart pounding against her chest, but the words wouldn't come. "I'm just concerned about damaging this," she held the bag out to him.

The look he gave her was one of barely hidden disappointment. He had wanted her to say something about them being close again, and she had once again kept her walls up. She felt a tinge of sadness within her, and wished to take back the words and have the courage to tell him what she had really been thinking, but the time had passed.

They walked in silence for awhile, approaching the river fairly slowly. Brennan was sure that this was the hottest day she had ever known, and she wished that they could find somewhere to store the new evidence while she went for a swim.

"I'm actually looking forward to getting back to the lab," Booth said with a laugh, the first either had spoken in some time, the quietness sitting comfortably between them.

Brennan laughed as they began the gentle descent down the bank into the shallow river. Booth stopped and turned back once he got to mid calf level in the water, holding a hand out to her. Her initial thought was that he was being chauvinistic, offering to help her walk across part of a river that was neither deep nor fast flowing, and then she remembered that she had the evidence bag on her person, and figured that he was wanting to help preserve the paper that they had found. "I can manage," she told him.

"I know," his hand remained there. She tried to ignore it, resisting the temptation to hold it. "Bones," he said in exasperation.

"I am perfectly capable of wading through a stretch of water like this and protecting evidence," she argued back.

He dropped his hand. "Do you never consider that it's more than trying to help _you_?" He demanded. She looked up at him, a little confused. He shook his head. She wondered what she hadn't understood this time. Obviously he wasn't about to enlighten her.

He stayed beside her as they waded across the water, saying nothing, his face expressionless. Once they reached the opposite bank he scrambled up quickly, and then leant back down again, his hand reaching to hers. "Just let me pull you up," he told her in a tone that kept her from refusing. The incline was fairly steep, with a few sharp jagged edges in the rocks. They could have waded further down the river to where it was only a short step up, but that would have added an extra hour or so onto their day. Brennan was feeling thirsty; neither she nor Booth had thought to bring water out and she was desperate for a drink.

She took his hand, feeling it grip tightly around hers as he yanked her upwards onto the bank. Her other hand was grasping the paper, making sure it couldn't slip away. Her eyes caught his, and she felt the rest of the world disappear. She arrived on the bank with a jolt, and he secured her in his arms. Automatically her arms went to his, unbalanced by the force of the pull and she found herself momentarily enjoying the closeness. Brennan didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on his still damp clothing, but still felt the tension between them. Her hand tightened a little more round around his arm and she forced herself to meet his eyes. She saw the same depths in them that she had before, and then it was Booth's turn to let go. She felt suddenly cold as he loosened his hands away from her skin, and a sense of emptiness encapsulated her. He seemed to notice; maybe the look on her face was providing a window to her thoughts.

"Bones?" He muttered, frowning at her, concerned.

She pulled herself together. "I'm fine, Booth. I think we should go and get something to drink. It's hot, and neither of us have had any liquid for sometime."

He nodded, and they quickly fell into step, making their way back to the car.

--------------------------------------

Brennan had been tossing and turning in bed for long enough now to debate whether sleep was actually going to happen. Booth had taken her to the lab, where they had studied the slip of paper before sending it to the FBI's forensics people. Nothing else had been written on it; only the printed details of the school. She had done a rubbing of it, and found that nothing had been written on topof it, it was completely blank.

Booth had dropped her off at home, promising to pick her up in the morning to go to the school and have a dig about there for information. She had closed the door behind him rather reluctantly, watching for a few seconds as he walked down her path. She remembered that he still had her spare key and she hadn't asked him for it back. She found the thought of comforting, that it was him who was looking after her in someway. She had never been happy to be reliant on anyone, becoming accustomed to being independent since she had gone into care. She was surprised at how easy it had been to trust Booth with something such as the key, knowing that should she every need it then he was only a phone call away, and would never be cross or annoyed at having been disturbed by her, no matter what the time or what he was doing. It felt nice, not like she was failing, or showing a weakness.

She had pottered in her kitchen, making a quick meal of fresh pasta and a pre prepared sauce. Cooking wasn't something she specialised in. She wasn't terrible at it, managing to make most things; it just wasn't something that she did as well as some people could.

After eating she checked her answering machine for messages, and heard Angela's voice piping up through the speakers.

"Bren, its Angela. Give me a call, sweetie. I want to know _everything_ that's been going on," the message had been left in Angela's usually bubbly tone. Brennan sighed. She should return the call, even though she knew it would be a long conversation and she was tired, and feeling more anti-social than usual and she just wanted to curl up in front of her laptop and write this scene between Kathy and her hot FBI agent who Brennan swore had net been based on Seeley Booth.

She dialled Angela's number from her memory, never having taken the time to understand how the memory buttons on the phone worked. Angela answered in her breezy voice, sounding as happy as she always did.

"Bren! How's it going? How's Booth?" The final question caused Brennan to sit down and pull a cushion onto her lap, relaxing into the chair and debating exactly how much to tell her friend about the day's events, including the swim in the river.

"We found a compliment slip from Thomas' school at the other side of the river from where the body was found. It seems logical that the slip came from the perpetrator when he was dumping the body. We managed to speak to Thomas' principal and his teacher, who no longer works at the school. The head said that Thomas was seen getting into a car that the teacher recognised as being his mom's, so absolving the school from any responsibility. This wasn't reported at the time, and the principal is blaming that on the fact that the teacher was too upset to recall it," she explained to Angela.

"That definitely sounds suspicious. What does Booth think?" Angela asked.

"He thinks we should start at the school tomorrow, ask a few questions. He believes that the principal is lying and that Thomas did go back into school, and he was taken from there," Brennan continued.

"And you don't agree with him?" Angela guessed.

"No, it's not that exactly. It's just a lot of this is being based on his gut feeling as we don't have a lot to work from. I'd feel better if we had some evidence to support us," Brennan explained, frustrated.

"You have to remember, hon, that Booth knows what he is doing. He's a good cop. I know he works from his instincts, and you are the opposite, but how often are his instincts wrong?" Angela pacified.

Brennan was silent for a short while. "I'm aware of the differences between myself and Agent Booth," she said, recalling their similarities at the same time.

"I know you sometimes find him difficult to deal with, Bren, but you do work well together," Angela's voice reasoned. "How has it been other than the case? You've spent a lot of time together this weekend."

Brennan wondered what Angela would say to what happened in the river. She took a deep breath and decided to tell her. She still felt confused about what had actually happened, and maybe Angela would be able to help. "Booth and I…" she began stiltedly, not quite sure how to explain it.

"Booth and you what?" Angela demanded, already sniffing out something interesting.

Brennan sighed. No way out now. She would have to tell. "We had to wade through the river. We were splashing each other, and I put some dead reeds down his back. He picked me up and dumped me in the river," she explained, not going into detail about the looks they had exchanged and how close he had been to her lips.

"And?" Angela pressed. "He kept hold of you, didn't he? Wow, Bren!" Brennan slumped heavily into the chair, and began to answer Angela's questions, trying not to let her friend put words into her mouth.

By the end of the interrogation Brennan felt as if she could just fall asleep there on the couch. "So," her friend continued. "Now, do you believe me that Booth has a thing for you?"

"I don't know, Ange," Brennan replied wearily. "He's asked me to some FBI ball on Saturday, so I might need you to help me with something to wear," she said unenthusiastically.

"You agreed to go to a ball with Booth?" Angela said in shock. "You hate those things."

"I know. It was a weak moment," Brennan confided.

"You have a date with Booth!" Angela continued her surprised tone. Brennan exhaled deeply; clearly this was going to be a long call.

After talking to Angela she managed to find the inspiration to continue with her new chapter, the clock ticking discreetly in the background as time slipped by into the next day. It was one thirty in the morning before she next looked up, and her conscience told her to go to bed, knowing that Booth would be waking her early to head off to the school.

Thoughts of Booth stayed with her as she got ready for bed, changing into an oversized t-shirt and running a brush through her hair. She applied moisturiser, knowing that the sun would have taken its toil on her fair skin. She pictured Booth, his skin darker than hers, hair deep brown, with those amazingly broad shoulders. When she had been in his arms she had felt so safe and protected, the feelings a little had to accept. She was perfectly capable of protecting herself, of making herself feel safe. She didn't need him.

She was plagued with images of the agent as she lay in bed, turning restlessly, trying to shake thought of him out of her head. She imagined the next chapter of her book, but every time she thought of Ryan, her main character's love interest,he had Booth's face, and spoke with Booth's voice. She tried to focus on the case, recapping facts, but again, only Booth was in her mind, she almost felt his hand still gripping hers as he had pulled her up the bank of the river.

A clock in the distance struck three am, and Brennan wondered if sleep would visit her, or if she was better getting up and trying to occupy herself, maybe going to the lab and working on the backlog of cases that were stacking up.

She turned over one last time, her eyes dropping heavily and she felt the beginnings of sleep lap gently at her. Then she heard a noise, scaring away sleep, and she sat bolt upright in bed. It was her cell phone. She grabbed it from beside her bed, answering it without checking who was calling.

"Bones," the voice from her head said.

"Booth," she greeted, surprised at how sleepy her tone was.

"Sorry to wake you. Another boy from Greenhold School has been taken. I need you," he said. She found herself focusing on the last sentence. _I need you._

"I'm awake. You picking me up?" She asked.

"I'm outside your house now," she heard him say back. She got out of bed and walked to the window.Looking out she saw him standing in her front garden, staring back up at her.

"Let yourself in and make some coffee," she told him about to hang up.

"What's your alarm code?" He asked.

"I've not set it," she answered, hanging up quickly before she heard his rebuke.

It was a matter of minutes before she joined him in the kitchen, watching him hunt through the cupboards, finding the coffee making equipment like he'd always lived there.

"He's David Matthieson," Booth began, glancing at her, none of the look in his eyes that had been causing her so much confusion. She wondered if she had imagined it, or if it was just back to business. "He's ten years old and was playing on the street at around seven this evening. His mom went out to call him in and he wasn't there. She searched, but couldn't find him and reported him missing at eight thirty. Some bright spark at the local PD noticed that the school was the same as Thomas Dyer's and called me. We need to head over to the Matthieson place," he finished, handing her a cup of coffee. She noticed he had made it exactly the way she liked it and then wondered why she was so surprised at the fact. She would have known exactly how to make his coffee.

---------------------

Booth drove fast over to where Mr and Mrs Matthieson lived, breaking all speeding laws, but in his eyes it was an emergency. They had a relatively good idea of what had happened to Thomas Dyer; he did not want another child to meet the same fate, and these first few hours were crucial.

He was only too aware of the woman sat next to him in the car, wearing beige slacks and a thin white shirt, hair loosely tied up and face naked of make up. She still looked stunning, although it was the early hours of the morning and they should both be asleep. He wondered what it would be like to wake up with her and then tried to imagine cold seas and shark attacks, knowing that he couldn't let his imagination run away with him, he needed to stay on task.

They were still in silence by the time they pulled up at the Matthieson's, both jumping out of the car and heading to the door with a purpose. Mr Matthieson let them in, his face pale and wan, filled with an intense worry that made Booth want to phone Rebecca and check Parker was okay. Mrs Matthieson brought them coffee almost straight away.

"We've looked everywhere – contacted everyone," she informed them. "I don't think we've left anyone out. Even relatives that are out of state we've been in touch with." Booth noticed that she seemed remarkably calm and controlled for a mother whose son had just gone missing.

"Why are you here?" Mr Matthieson asked, drinking coffee that was still steaming hot. "How come the FBI are here and you have her with you?" He pointed to Bones. Booth felt her stiffen. She did not like the way Matthieson had referred to her.

"You are aware that Thomas Dyer was abducted, possibly from outside Greenhold School?" Both parents nodded. "We found his body on Friday. The fact that both boys attend the same school is enough for me to get involved." He looked at the look of fear increase on their faces and wondered if he had been too harsh in his deliverance of the details. But they needed to be aware of it, of what had happened. It may make them freer with giving out details about their son.

"What do you need to know?" The mother asked, holding her palms outwards to him in a subconscious offering.

"What he was doing the last time you saw him and what mood he was in. Who his friends were in his class and what his relationship was like with his teachers," Booth began to list.

"He was playing soccer outside, and was completely happy. He was going on a trip tomorrow with school, looking at the local environment. They were going to a river, and he was really excited about it," Mrs Matthieson continued, tears now rolling down her cheeks.

"Which river was that?" Brennan jumped in.

"Sanuye," David's father answered. "It's not too far from the school, so the class were going to walk. My wife was to go as a parent helper, so there were enough adults to keep an eye on all the children." Booth nodded.

"Who was his teacher?" Booth asked, his fingers interlocked and resting in between his knees.

"Mrs Sanderson," the mother responded, now in control of her tears. "We found her to be a good teacher. He seemed to have made strides this year in her class and really loved school." Booth nodded, listening as other information was given their way.

"Is it possible I could have a look at your son's room?" Bones asked.

The father nodded, standing up. "Follow me," he instructed. "We haven't touched anything," he assured.

"I looked under the bed to check he wasn't hiding under the bed," Mrs. Matthieson inserted. "He had done that before."

Booth looked round the room, watching a Bones began to check in drawers. She seemed to be on a mission to find something, looking rapidly around.

"I don't suppose David kept a journal, did he?" She asked his parents who were stood in the doorway. He could tell they were wondering how the hell this had happened to them, and felt a grief for them that burned his soul. It wasn't fair.

Mrs Matthieson shook her head. "He had no time to. He was very sporty, wanted to go over to England eventually and play soccer professionally, so all of his free time was spent doing that."

"Where did he learn soccer?" Booth asked, watching Bones as she pulled up the mattress to no avail.

"At school. One of the teachers was interested in it – Mr Wheeler," Booth nodded at the father's answer.

"Booth!" He heard Bones shout from across the room. He rushed to her, the Matthieson's close behind.

"I found these in David's blazer," she showed him a few pieces of paper. He took them off her and began to look through them. Each was a picture of a man with no mouth, drawn in pencil and identical to the ones they had found in Thomas Dyer's room.

"Those haven't been done by David," his mother attested.

Her husband shook his head. "He could draw, but not as well as that." Brennan looked up at Booth, the worry obvious in her eyes.

"This all links back to the school," she said quietly.

Booth nodded. "What time does Angela get up?" He asked. "She needs to take a look at these and see if the same person who drew Thomas' did these."

"I can phone her now," Brennan said, taking out her cell.

"Leave it for a few minutes. Let's head over to the lab first and call her from there," he said, thinking hard. "Mr and Mrs Matthieson, we have search parties out looking for David as we speak. We will find him, I promise."

"That you. I just hope its you who finds him and not the doctor lady," the husband looked at Bones, now standing next to Booth, close enough for him to sense what she was feeling.

"I'm an anthropologist, Mr Matthieson," Bones said back, a biting tone that he knew the Matthiesons would not have picked up on, but he had. "I help out Agent Booth whenever I can. I know we will get your son back safe and well," she said. Booth almost smiled at her. She had managed to be tactful.

"Thank you," Mr Matthieson said in an almost whisper as they followed him downstairs and then wentout of the house, the feeling of dreaded anticipation lying heavily upon them.

* * *

_Please review - it's really helpful to know what you think. Thank you to all those people who have reviewed and especially those who review every chapter._

_I'm getting a lot of hits, and its great to know that so many people are reading this - gives me such a rush! - but please let me know your opinion. All reviews are good; anonymous, signed,smileys, one word, a paragraph... all are loved and cherished._

_Am off to bed now, and am hoping for dreams of Danny Messer (CSI:NY) Sigh. Hope to hear from you all via that review button..._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed - you've made me smile and giggle and probably sound quite insane!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Fox's. Kathy Reichs'. But not mine.**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 8 – Fishing

Brennan watched as Angela poured over the drawings, a serious expression coating her face and her lips slightly parted as she picked up on the similarities between the two sets of pictures. For all of her light hearted banter, and obsession with Brennan's love life, Angela was devoted to her job, even though it did frequently cause her pain, as Brennan knew it would be doing now.

"I think they've been done by the same person," Angela announced, looking up. "I would almost swear to it. The pencil pressure is equal in certain places; the style is the same in all of the pictures. It's definitely the same person."

"Thanks, Ange," Brennan looked up at Booth, he nodded then looked back at Angela.

"I know you're not trained in this – but do you think they were done by a man or a woman?" Booth asked, picking up one of the pictures with a gloved hand. Brennan had been surprised with the rapidity of which he put the latex gloves on.

Angela sighed and looked back at the pictures. "I was thinking about that as I was studying the pictures. My instinct tells me it's a man. The pictures lack detail that I would expect a woman to add, and the pencil lines are more defined, the artist didn't hesitate as much as maybe a woman would do."

"What about the lack of a mouth?" Booth asked, pushing for more information.

Angela was quiet for a moment. "This is basic psychology, Booth. I only did a little on this at college," she responded, looking at him with apologetic eyes.

"It may help," he shrugged.

"Children who are being abused will often draw pictures of themselves with no mouth as they've been forbidden to speak," she said. "How that relates to an adult with no mouth, I don't know." Angela stood up and moved away from the desk, glancing up at the clock. "I can't believe it's only seven o'clock," she said. "And I left Jonathan in bed."

"New boyfriend?" Booth asked.

"Kind of," Angela answered. Booth grinned. Brennan felt a little jealous of the rapport that they had. "I hear you two are going to some fancy formal on Saturday?" Brennan almost smiled at Angela for making her feel a little better.

Booth grinned. "It was only a matter of time before Bones here fell for me," he teased. Brennan whacked an arm in his direction, which he blocked, laughing. His eyes met hers and she became oblivious to the fact that both Angela and Zack, who had just walked in, were watching them with curiosity. The urge to be held by him was almost overwhelming, or at least to be touched by him. They seemed to move slowly to each other, as if it was all happening in slow motion.

"Guys," she heard Angela cough. "Maybe you need to kinda have a little time alone before you go to this ball."

It broke the spell between them, and they stopped in their stride, their attention turned to Angela, who was looking at them with an 'I told you so' expression and a massive grin on her face. Brennan looked at Zack, who appeared to have just discovered a previously unknown fact, and now looked half amazed and half disappointed. Booth's hands went to his pockets, as did Brennan's and both looked a little guilty, shifting their eyes to not make contact with anyone else's'.

"Dr Brennan," she heard Zack break the silence. "What do you want me to get started on today?"

"The American Indian bones if you would," she said, explaining axactly what she wanted doing, glad of the opportunity to think of something other than Seeley Booth and divert everyone else away from the tension that had just gripped her and the FBI agent.

Zack nodded and disappeared, and Angela gave her a knowing look and sashayed away to where she was composing a picture of the aforementioned American Indian. Booth turned to Brennan, her eyes meeting his a little hesitantly before she felt the jolt of electricity swing through her. From the look on his face she knew that he had felt it too, and neither of them knew what to say.

"We've got an hour before we can go to the school," Booth said, his voice a little rough. "We haven't had chance to eat yet – why don't we go to that little café on the front and grab something from there?"

Brennan considered for a minute; this would mean spending more time with him, which was both a good and bad thing. Every minute she had spent in his company since learning of his split from Tessa had intensified the vague feelings she'd already had for him. This was pleasant and confusing. For her, relationships with men were purely recreational, no strings attached – they satisfied a need. But she had a feeling that should an attempt be made to satisfy that need with Booth it would not be completely quenched. Something lingered under that surface; she felt something extra that could not be defined as just lust. She found that she liked these feelings, but was also scared of them. They dug a little deeper into her comfort zone, and the urge to run and hide from them was balanced by an enjoyment of how they made her feel alive.

"That sounds good," she replied.

Booth smiled a little awkwardly. "Some women would be _paying_ to have breakfast with me, Bones, and it took you far too long then to say yes!"

"Maybe you should consider a career change then, and become an escort," she retorted, discarding her lab coat across the back of her chair.

"Wow, Bones, you cracked a joke," Booth uttered.

"I can crack many things, Booth," she said back. "Including your bones."

Booth pulled his smug face and nodded. He began to walk to the doors; she followed him, hands in the pockets of her trousers, tiredness obliterated by the adrenaline flowing through her veins. Whether it was from the case they were working on, or him, she was unaware.

---------------------------

Booth sat across the plastic table from Bones, resisting the temptation to smack his lips. He had just polished of a rather large 'Truckers Breakfast' consisting of things that would now be causing his arteries to scream out loud. Bones had had a very healthy scrambled egg on brown toast, although she had not turned down his offer of fried bread, eating it hungrily, as if it was a real treat.

"I'll get this," she said, as the waitress came over to drop the check on the table.

Booth shook his head. These feelings, whatever they were, were making it impossible for him to treat Bones as anything other than a date, and he refused to let women pay for anything, unless they were considerably wealthier than he was. "I'll pay," he told her.

"You got the meal at Sid's the other night," she argued back.

"So. Consider this my treat," he said, grabbing the last piece of toast and shoving it into his mouth. Her attention was now taken by his lack of manners rather than who was going to get the check.

After he had finally managed to pay they headed over to the school, a short drive away into suburbia. The school, when they saw it, was a large imposing building, built during the last century, slightly gothic in its style and set in large grounds that had mainly been tarmacked over, benches spotted over the playground which was cornered off by a tall fence that it was possible to look through and see what was going on in the playground.

Children had already began to collect in the playground, several parents standing and watching over them, their eyes quick to discern any unusualities, such as him and Bones striding along the pavement to them. He wondered if he should start to ask them questions now, or maybe wait a little. He imagined that these parents would be around for a while, given that David's disappearance had been announced over the local radio along with the breakfast news.

He saw Alexandra Dunn standing at the doors of the school, eyes glaring frostily at them as they approached. He clutched the warrant in his hand, knowing that he was going to need it in order to actually get inside the building.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," the principal called to them as they approached, her tone civil.

"Mrs. Dunn," Booth nodded in return, preparing for the battle.

"I trust you have a warrant," she said, head held high.

"I trust you are aware that another of your pupils is missing this morning," Booth responded, standing almost on the step that led into the main entrance of the building. He could see the dark, narrow corridors that led into the bowels of the school. The building had been intended to be a school from the start, but back in times when could education was stricter, and the windows had been placed high so no one could day dream out of them. He shuddered a little at the appearance of the building, not liking the rather old fashioned appearance the corridors held.

"I heard that David Matthieson is absent this morning, although his parents have neglected to inform me personally," Mrs. Dunn retorted, her voice giving away no emotion.

"I would imagine that his parents may be a little too concerned by the fact that their son has possibly been abducted to call you personally, so please take the information from me, instead," he said, biting sarcasm eating at his voice. He heard Bones give a small noise, presumably a hidden laugh.

The principal did not respond, merely taking a deep inhalation of air as if she was dealing with a particularly annoying pupil.

"Your warrant, Agent Booth," she said, looking at him as though he was no more than something stuck to her shoe.

Booth took it out of his pocket and handed it to her, smiling infuriatingly. He did not like this woman. Quite clearly, she did not like him either, and he would imagine that Cullen would be receiving another call from her at some point soon.

She inspected every detail of the piece pf paper, before moving slightly out of the way so him and Bones could squeeze past and enter.

"I trust you will disrupt the learning of the children in my care as little as possible while you examine the buildings. You may have to wait to interview members of staff as they will be involved with the children until lunch time," she said, her voice cold.

"And I trust that when we do interrupt your lessons and interview your staff that you will realise that we are racing time to find this boy who has been in your charge before some psychopath makes sure he meets the same end as Thomas Dyer," Booth answered, looking at her as if she was now the cretin. She glared back at him, utter loathing in her eyes. He knew he had won this round.

"My secretary is available if you require any assistance," she turned and walked away, heels clicking against the hard surface of the corridors.

"Where do you want to start?" He looked at Bones.

"I think we need to walk around the building, particularly in the courtyards," she pointed over to where old windows boarded an overgrown garden, clearly untouched, although it had obviously once been used for nature projects, having a pond and a greenhouse whose glass had now been shattered, some pieces hanging precariously down like daggers from rusting frames.

They started their preliminary tour through the school, paying particular attention to the classrooms of Thomas and David. The corridors were still silent, the children still outside, playing in the sunshine before lessons began. Booth and Brennan entered the classroom where David Matthieson had had his lessons, and saw an olderwoman crouched down at a desk, her head poured over a work book, her eyes red with what Booth supposed had been tears.

"Mrs Sanderson?" Brennan spoke up, her voice shattering the quiet of the building. The teacher looked up, startled at the intrusion.

"I'm Agent Seeley Booth," he introduced. "This is Dr Temperance Brennan, we're with the FBI and we're investigating the disappearance of David Matthieson."

She removed the glasses that had been perched on the end of her nose and smoothed her hair back into its neat pony tail. "Valerie Sanderson," she stood up, holding her hand out to them. "I was – am – David's teacher."

Booth shook the hand, and Brennan followed. "We need to ask you a few questions about David, but I'm aware that your class will be coming in soon," he said softly.

Valerie shook her head. "I can ask my classroom support to do the roll call."

"Who is your classroom support?" Booth asked.

"Peter Wheeler," Valerie answered. "He's worked here pretty much since the school was reopened fifteen years ago, and is part of the furniture," without looking Booth knew that Brennan was puzzled by the phrase and he made a mental note to explain it to her later.

"David's parents mentioned him this morning," Brennan said. "He taught soccer?"

Valerie nodded. "He did a lot of extra curricular things with the children, but if you're looking at him as a potential suspect, you may as well arrest Santa Claus too. Pete is brilliant, and no one is more devastated than him this morning. He had a lot to do with both of the boys," she explained. Peter Wheeler automatically went right to the top of Booth's list to speak to.

"We need to know a little about that David was like in class," Booth diverted the subject, knowing not to push. "Was he bright? Where'd he come in the class lists? Who were his friends?"

"He was an average student, but excelled at sport and I could – can – see him making it professionally in some field of that nature. He came roughly in the middle of the class. He was friendly with everyone, especially Nathan Brigadend and Brandon Melling," Booth made a note of the names of the two boys. "He was a good boy," tears began to stream down the teacher's face again as a line of children began to enter the room that was lightened by high up windows that no one was able to see out of and fluorescent lighting that was a little oppressive. Booth watched as each child entered in good order, chatter stopping and eyes staring at him and Bones as they sat down at the old fashioned lift up desks, every child sitting alone.

"This is Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan from the FBI," Mrs Sanderson introduced once each child was settled and she had composed herself. "They are looking into where David might have gone. I am sure most of you know that he has gone missing from his home," she explained. "I am needed to go and speak to these people and to see if I can help them."

One small girl put her hand up, looking at Bones. The teacher indicated to her to speak. "Are you an author?" She asked in a childish voice.

Bones nodded. "I have written some books, yes," she answered. "I imagine they wouldn't be what you would read though."

"My mommy reads them, and once I read a chapter," she said chirpily. "It was really gross. Do you really boil bones?"

Bones looked to Booth for support, not quite knowing how to answer this.

"She does sometimes," Booth assisted. "But it's to help work out what a person might have looked like," he explained.

"Cool!" One boy shouted out. "Is that what you did with Thomas Dyer's bones?" Booth felt himself cringe at the question.

"No," Bones retorted sharply. "His bones were already clean when they were found." A hushed silence fell on the room, they children having been shocked by the fact that an adult had answered them directly.

"Maybe they shouldn't know too many details like that," the teacher intervened. "Mr Wheeler, do you think you could do roll call and a times table test on all the tables while I speak to Dr Brennan and Agent Booth?" She looked at he man who was stood near the board.

Booth regarded him closely. He looked to be in his forties, a closely cropped beard and short hair making sure that he didn't look any older. His eyes were dark and his physique was trim and lean, shoulder none too broad. He looked wiry and fast, quite lithe in his fawn trousers and casual white shirt that suited the weather.

"No problem, Mrs Sanderson. I think a multiplication test is exactly what's needed to focus some people's attention," his comment was now aimed at two girls who were holding books to shield their mouths, thinking that no one would realise that they were talking. Their eyes kept glancing over to him and Bones and Booth realised that they were probably assuming that Bones was his girlfriend.

He followed the teacher out of the class, wondering how kids got to be so blasé about death and the abduction of one of their classmates, and then decided it was probably a self defence mechanism. Valerie led them out into the corridor.

"I can let you have all of David's books, records, anything that you think will help," she offered, still clearly distressed.

"Did David draw?" Brennan asked.

The teacher pulled a slight face. "Not really," she said, frowning. "He was more into sports and didn't have the patience for crafts and art. He was more of a doer than a thinker."

Bones handed her a photocopy of one of the pictures they had found in David's room. The teacher took it and studied it carefully. "This isn't David's," she confirmed. "This is by someone I don't know," she handed the picture back. "I find it quite disturbing that the man doesn't have a mouth."

"Pictures drawn by the same person were found in Thomas Dyer's room also," Booth said, watching as the teacher almost fell down with the assumption that the fact brought.

"You think the same person who killed Thomas has got David, don't you?" She said weakly.

Booth shrugged. "The trouble is, whoever is doing this is not leaving us any clues, and what little things we can assume are being tainted by someone covering up the situation."

The teacher's eyes lit up with knowing. "You mean about Thomas' disappearance, don't you?" Booth nodded. "Dunn has said that Elizabeth saw Thomas getting into a car like his mom's?" Booth affirmed her question. Valerie shook her head. "Elizabeth didn't. She was supposed to be watching the children as they left, but Dunn had called her into her office, rebuking her for books that she considered to be inadequately marked. If you ask Phil, the janitor, he'll tell you that he saw Thomas come back into school while he was emptying the class bins."

"Aren't you meant to be covering this up?" Brennan asked.

Valerie nodded. "Dunn has most people wrapped around her little finger; they live in terror of her. Unfortunately, I've worked at the school a lot longer than Dunn, even taught some of the parents. She won't find a way to get rid of me, and I refuse to pamper to her bizarre ideas of education, including covering up facts. She doesn't care about the school; she's a robot who's programmed to take money." Her tone was bitter and filled with hate.

"Is there anyone else who doesn't share her ideas?" Booth asked.

"Most of the staff," Valerie answered. "But the majority of them are too in fear for their jobs to say anything against her." Booth nodded.

"Where can we find Phil?" Booth asked. Valerie pointed down the corridor toward a door right at the end.

"He'll be in his office having a cigarette and doing his puzzles," she told them. "There is nothing about this school that he cannot tell you."

Booth nodded and began the walk toward the janitor's room, taking one last glance in David's classroom as they passed, seeing the class support issuing multiplication questions and glaring at a couple of the children.

He knocked hard on Phil's door, and it was answered immediately by a large, thick set man, a cigarette hanging out of one side of his mouth, hair having left his head a while ago, and almost freshly shaven. Booth automatically felt a sense of safety around him. As abrupt as he expected him to be, he knew that this man would be a straight talker, reminding him very much of his father.

"Come in," he opened the door wide and let Bones and Booth in. They sat down on plastic chairs, facing a torn office chair that Phil took a seat on. "I heard you were here," he said, stubbing out the cigarette. Bones wafted the smell away from under her nose. "The queen was going on about it to someone on the phone. Made my day to see how flustered she was."

Booth smiled, enjoying that particular piece of knowledge. "Mrs Sanderson said that you saw Thomas Dyer back in here the day he was abducted."

Phil nodded. "I did. He was back in his classroom, sat at his desk, doing his homework. And that was the last I saw of him. It was about four fifteen. School finishes at four o clock, and his mom was often late."

"You didn't see him leave?" Booth asked.

Phil shook his head. "No. I also didn't see anyone in school who shouldn't be. But I can only be in one place at once. Someone may have come in without me knowing. Security isn't always what it should be here."

Booth didn't want continue down that road, sensing that Phil would take any opportunity to criticise the way things were ran. "What about the people who work here – the teachers, and the classroom supports? What are they like?"

Phil laughed. "All under her majesty's thumb and do as they're told," he answered. "'Cept a couple. Val's alright, and Denise."

"What about Mr Wheeler?" Brennan asked.

Phil gave a grunt. "He's a bit of a pansy. All into this sport and being healthy. Tried to get me to give up smoking for Lent one year. He soon gave up that idea. He's harmless; does as he's told and he's good with the kids. Sad life, really," Phil shrugged, picking up a packet of cigarettes and pulling one out, hinting for a lighter. Booth realised that the air in the small, cluttered room was about to get stuffier.

"He's had a hard time?" Booth asked, eyebrows raised.

"His wife and kid were killed in a plane crash fifteen years ago. He wasn't with them, as they were off to see her parents in Arizona, and he was running a summer school here. He's never complained about it, just gotten on with his job," Phil shrugged.

"Is this the cleaning fluid you always use?" Brennan interrupted, pointing to two large containers in the corner of the room.

Phil nodded. "Always that stuff as it's cheap. Doesn't do the job as well as the old stuff we used to use – that was much stronger – but her ladyship is cutting most the budgets, probably so she has a little extra to pay for her holidays in Key West."

Booth looked at Bones, silently asking her question he didn't want revealing to the janitor. She shook her head, and he realised it must be a different bleach to the one that Thomas' bones had been soaked in.

"Can we have a look in the courtyard, Mr…" he realised he didn't know the man's name.

"I'm Mr Phillips. John Phillips," he answered, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "And I would let you into the courtyard, but the keys went missing about six years ago, and no one's been in there since."

"I'm surprised at that," Bones interjected. "I would have thought it would have provided a valuable resource for learning."

Phil shrugged. "The queen says it's too much of a risk for health and safety, and that there isn't the money available to tidy it and bring it up to standard. She's had parents coming in, including a landscape gardener, offering to do it, but has always turned it down." Bones shook her head. "I don't know either, Missy. She's just like that."

"And no one has keys?" Booth repeated.

"No one. And no one's bothered to get any," he stood up. "I need to be getting to my tasks, else I'll be taken to the Tower," he told them, standing up. Booth and Bones stood too, stepping the short distance to the door. They exited, followed by Phil carrying a toolbox and a look of despair. "Poor kiddies," they heard him mutter.

Something caught Booth's eye as Phil closed the door. "That fishing rod," he began. "Is it yours?"

Phil shook his head. "Found it in a classroom about three months ago. I assumed some parent had been in, giving a talk about fishing, but I've never found the owner."

"We'd like to take it with us," Bones shot in.

"Thinking of doing a bit of fishing, Missy?" He said, opening the door once more.

"Something like that," Booth replied, taking the fishing rod from the janitor.

They didn't continue to look round the school, simply heading straight out of the main entrance and to the car. Booth turned round as they exited the play ground and saw the imposing figure of Alexandra Dunn, watching through her office window, as they placed the fishing rod in the car.

* * *

_Thank you for taking the time to read this story. Feedback is very much appreciated and will be rewarded with a quick update. All reviews are loved, welcomed, and treated with care. And I am now off work for two weeks - the joys of being a teacher._

_Please review, its only takes a minute..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.**

**A/N: I am not a forensic scientist, or a scientist of any sort. I teach school, hence I know a little about a lot. If anyone reading this does know a bit about forensic techniques, then please excuse me - my details in here are kind of woofy and if you want to put me straight please do so. Otherwise I hope it doesn't destroy your liking (?) of the story.**

**And I remembered to put flashlight instead of torch! Wahey!**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 9 – In a Cottage in a Wood**

It seemed hotter than the day before, the sky already a deep, clear blue, no scarring of clouds anywhere upon it. The pace of the day seemed slow, and Brennan wondered how many people had called in sick, wanting to take advantage of the hot weather, or just feeling that the temperature was too high to work. She had already heard on the radio of one business where all the workers had been sent home as the air conditioning had broken. She hoped that that not happened in the lab, it had been bad enough last week, and now it was even hotter it would be unbearable.

Booth tapped the steering wheel impatiently as he drove, letting Brennan know his urgency to get back to the lab and run some tests on the fishing rod. The fact that the body had been dumped not too far from one of the most popular places for fishing in the area had not been lost on them. As soon as they were back at the lab she would have Zack run some tests on the line to extract any deposits from whatever stretch of water it had been in last, which they both thought would have been the Huyana River, and then she imagined that Booth would bring someone in to check for finger prints.

He pulled up abruptly at the Jeffersonian, swinging the door open wildly. His phone had rung just as they were leaving the school, asking if he needed any assistance there. He had agreed, instructing the agent nicknamed 'Mother Martha' to send a couple of people out to take more detailed statements from certain members of staff, and the two children who had been named as David's best friends. He had then gone on to have a rather heated discussion with Cullen regarding busting the door into the courtyard. Cullen had disagreed, stating that there was no evidence to suggest that the courtyard had been used recently, or was relevant to the investigation. Booth's mood had turned nasty there after, and Brennan had blanked him out, knowing that he was feeling even more frustrated, and as if he was now racing against time with his feet bound.

He carried the fishing rod into the building, attracting all sorts of looks from the people who worked there. He merely glared back.

"You know, you can bring a dead body in here, a mutilated finger or limb, but it takes a fishing rod to actually get people to sit up and take notice," he whinged. She ignored him, calling Zack over and explaining what it was she wanted him to do.

"Do we have a water sample to compare it to?" He asked, handling the rod as if it was the key to a safety deposit box loaded with gold.

Brennan thought for a minute. They hadn't actually taken a water sample either of the times they had been at the river, but both she and Booth had been in the water yesterday, and their trainers would not yet have dried. Zack would be able to extract some of the water from them and use it to compare what he found on the rod.

"Booth," she looked at the agent who was now poking a large beetle inside a plastic cage, a look of intense dislike written across his face. "Booth," she said a little louder. "Hodgins will be really peed if you hurt Engelbert," he looked up at her a little disbelievingly.

"He named the beetle?" He said with a look halfway between disgust and confusion on his face.

She nodded, not wanting to get into a conversation about Hodgins and his strange pets. "I need your trainers from yesterday. The ones you were wearing when we were in the river," she recalled what had actually happened in the river, the memory causing her skin to shiver.

"I left them in your office," he said, now distracted from the large bug.

"I need them," she said, unsmiling, not wanting him to know that their activities in the water still affected her.

"I'll go get them," he headed off. She watched him go, looking at how his trousers hung on him, and the way his muscles moved under his shirt.

Booth returned with the trainers, handing them to her. "I'm sorry, Bones, they smell pretty bad," he apologised. "I should have put them in the washer."

"I'm glad you didn't," she took the trainers over to Zack, who was watching with greatintentas evaporation steamed a plastic box.

"Here's the comparison," Brennan handed over one of the trainers. Zack examined it and scrunched up his nose.

"This is Agent Booth's?" He said, feeling inside the shoe and pressing down on the sole.

Brennan nodded. "Booth, have you been wading through any other beds of water in these shoes?" She called to him. Booth was stood a few stepped away, one arm casually resting on a table, regarding what they were doing with some amusement.

"They've only been worn at the gym," he replied. "What is it you're doing?"

"Seeing if the fishing rod has been used in the Huyana," Brennan replied.

Booth nodded, looking as if he was falling back into deep thought. "We need to go back to the river, Bones," he said, after a minute or two of silence. Brennan knew that he had been watching her continually, feeling his eyes burning on her. She had almost enjoyed the attention, moving her hips a little more than she would do normally. When she next glanced at him she noticed the smallest grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "Can Zack manage this on his own?"

"Sure Agent Booth – I've written part of a dissertation on this. I have the samples now – I just need to compare them. I should have the results in a few minutes," Zack replied, looking at Booth with a touch of awe. Brennan wished that Booth would actually spend a little time with Zack; sometimes she thought that her protégée was in need of the types of guidance that she couldn't give, and knew that Hodgins would do more harm than good.

"Then, Bones, we need to get our sweet asses back down to that river," he announced.

"I'll get changed," she said, having no intentions of doing any wading in the dress pants and shirt that she was currently wearing.

Booth nodded. "I think I'll join you," she looked at him, a little shocked – did he mean join her in getting changed in the same room, or just that he was going to put in something more casual too?

"I'm getting this suit off," he smiled, his pupils dilating. "I could do that in your office, and you know, give you a hand with a few buttons?" He winked, clearly enjoying the embarrassment he was causing her.

For a moment she considered calling his bluff, and agreeing, but knowing Booth he would simply follow through, and although the idea wasn't as unappealing as it might have once been, they had a job to do, and that situation would definitely delay things.

She looked at Zack, who was completely oblivious now he was examining samples down his microscope, and hadn't particularly been paying attention to her or Booth. "Maybe another time, Booth," she responded, surprising him by not just walking off and ignoring him.

"I'll look forward to it," he uttered back, and she felt as if someone had just attached her to the mains.

She scuttled to her office, knowing that she had an old pair of casual trousers and a shirt there that she would sometimes use for anything that was guaranteed to be messy. She heard a tap at her door; pulling her top on quickly, expecting it to be Booth, she opened it to find Angela stood there, eyebrows raised.

"You… Booth? You got something to tell me, Bren?" Angela said, slamming the door behind her, having obviously heard the interchange between her and Booth.

"Ange… We're in a bit of a rush," Brennan flustered.

"So talk as you're getting your kit together," she said, walking over to Brennan's desk and beginning to pack the items that she knew Brennan generally took with her on an excavation, and would take with her today, in case they were needed.

"I don't know what you mean – me and Booth – there's nothing going on," Brennan defended.

"I heard you downstairs. Zack may be completely oblivious, but I am not, sweetie. And that wasn't just serious sexual tension, that was flirting. From you as well as him," she handed the packed bag out to Brennan who had just finished tying up her laces.

"Maybe we're going too far. I'm sure it's only a joke, but obviously it's getting unprofessional…" Brennan looked confused.

Angela sighed. "I think the problem is that you're not going far enough," she eyed Brennan with some knowing. "You need to get it out of your system… I know you have a problem with him having a girlfriend, but I swear I saw Tessa out with another man on Saturday, and they looked a little too cosy to be just friends…"

"Booth and Tessa split up," Brennan told her, only giving Angela half of her attention as she checked the kit, adding a couple of items to it.

"And you have left it till now to tell me? Sweetie, I need details like this! They give me something else to think about instead of missing children and dead bodies," she rebuked.

"I promise I'll tell you later," Brennan said, not really thinking about what she was letting herself in for. "I have to go. Booth will be mad I've kept him waiting."

Angela nodded, squeezing her lips together. "And this time, Bren, if he gives you that look where he's going to kiss you, let him."

Brennan gave her a glare.

----------------------

Booth watched as she came toward him, dressed casually, in clothes he would never have imagined her wearing. Her hair was now tied up without having been styled and a few locks fell down at the sides of her face. She still wore her trademark chunky jewellery, large drop earrings with a coin like metal thing at the bottom, and a matching pendant on a thin piece of black material. Her usually pale skin had caught the sun and she had a healthy hue to her skin. He realised that he was looking at her a little too much and tried to divert his eyes before Angela noticed, but he found that he didn't want to look away enough. He suddenly thought of Tessa, and realised that he had never looked at her the way he was now admiring Brennan. Tessa had been gorgeous and a nice enough person, but they had never had the instant chemistry that he and Bones had, neither had he had the same feelings for Tessa that he was now experiencing for his partner. Was he in love with her? He knew it was a possibility, but one that he didn't want to consider too much as even the idea of it had the possibility of consuming him.

"Ready?" He asked her as she stood next to him. She nodded. He held his hand out to take hold of the bag she was carrying.

"I can manage, Booth," she said.

He decided not to back down on this one. "Bones, I have stronger arms than you. That bag looks heavy. Let me take it to the car," he insisted, not letting his voice get angry.

"I have carried far more than this much longer distances…" she began the spiel.

"I know. You have nothing to prove. Just let me be the man for once and do something for you!" He battled. She practically threw the bag at him. He smiled. Victory at last.

The heat hit them like a truck as they left the Jeffersonian, both him and Bones immediately putting on their sunglasses and heading slowly to the car. The pavements were dusty and dehydrated, the sun blaring and bright. He half looked forward to their excursion by the river, at least it would be slightly cooler there, shaded by the trees, although he had the sneaking feeling that there would be a few more discoveries made that afternoon.

Bones' phone rand as they got to his car.

"Brennan," she answered. "Zack? The same. Good. I think someone will be over to test for finger prints. He did? That's interesting. Tell Hodgins to call me when he works out the timeline." She hung up and looked at him. "Hodgins had a look at the fishing rod and found some old eggs from corixids that would place the time that the rod was last used. I though it might give us an idea of who the rod could have belonged to, maybe."

Booth nodded. "It would be a long shot – maybe they left it and then bought a new one. We could see if anyone in the school has bought arod recently. It might not even belong to the murderer, though," he felt a little pessimistic. He wondered how David was managing, cooped up indoors, probably somewhere that was now uncomfortably hot, maybe thirsty and hungry. If his captor did not give him water then he may not have too long left in this heat. Booth put his foot down and drove, exchanging theories with Bones about the rod and its connection to the river. Zack had determined that the rod had last been used in the same water where Booth's trainers had been, so there did seem to be a connection that needed to be followed up. It was the only clear lead so far, although it was still tainted by maybes, ifs and buts.

He parked half a mile from the river in a car park that was generally used by the fisherman as it there was a path from it that led straight to the mile and a half of riverbank that was notorious as a good fishing spot. Sweat streamed down his brow and he wondered how long it would be before the weather broke and there would be storms again. The humidity was painfully high, and he debated if he could manage a quick dip in the water to cool down.

They walked through the trees that at least provided some shade, the branches and leaves completely still in the airless day. It was almost silent apart from their feet crunching over dead leaves and bark; all the animals and birds seemed to have had the sense to stay still, not exerting themselves. As they approached the river he saw the figures of two or three fishermen, patiently waiting for a bite in the heat of the sun. One looked to have fallen asleep; something that Booth could imagine himself doing. A vision of him lay on a picnic blanket; Bones beside him, sunbathing in a peaceful field crept into his mind. He gave her a swift look, wondering if their relationship would every have another layer beside the one labelled 'professional'.

"No one would guess what we were here to do," he said quietly as they followed the river along, now out of earshot of the fishermen. "If they saw us they would just think we were going for a romantic stroll in the afternoon," he grinned at her, wondering if she'd take the bait.

"Really, Booth," she replied, her attention elsewhere. He looked at what was holding her stare and saw an old, boarded up hut, set a little way back from the river bank and almost hidden by undergrowth and trees. He immediately deviated off the path and began to fight his way through the thick, dense bushes that were impinging their way, taking care not to let any of the branches spring back from his hand and hit Bones who was right behind him.

It was a struggle to get to the hut from the river, enough of a hardship to make Booth wonder if anyone had actually been near the hut in the last ten years. Ivy had clung to the wood of the small building, covering the glass pane that had been used for a window. Nettles lined the path up to the entrance, butterflies floating round them, giving an eerie contrast of the wonders of nature and the cold, haunting feeling of a derelict building. He stood, looking at the surrounding and waited for Brennan to catch him up; she had fallen a few steps behind and then stopped. He heard her footsteps and turned round. She was holding a scrap of material, wearing one of the latex gloves that she had stuffed in her pocket before.

"This looks like it's from a child's t-shirt," she said. "The colours on it," she clarified. He looked at the small piece of cloth and felt inclined to agree with her.

"You need something from you kit?" He asked, still holding her bag. She nodded. He took out one of the small evidence bags and she carefully put it in and sealed it, writing where it was found on the label and what the bag specifically contained.

She stood up after crouching down to write and looked at the hut. "It doesn't look like there's been anyone here recently," she said, frowning.

"I disagree," he grinned, knowing he was right. "Look at the nettles on the path – a few have been trampled down. And there's a sweet paper there that doesn't look weather worn or rained on. Its colours haven't faded."

She took another evidence bag out of her kit and collected the sweet wrapper. Booth began to scan round the hut, keeping his ears open for any sign of life, or any footsteps other than Bones' approaching. "Bones!" He called. She came running quickly around the side of the hut to where he was, almost falling into him. She braced herself against him, stopping with a jolt and he found his arms casually going round her, almost to hold her up. He didn't register that he was touching her, and that she had made no attempt to move away from him, his attention was to busy being occupied by the trampled down path that led from the back of the hut, through a field of tall weeds that had grown rapidly with the impact of all the rain and hot sun.

"This is recent," she said, looking at he same thing. Moving away from him she approached the trampled down weeds and began to study the soil. "There's an extra foot print here," she called. Booth came over.

"I'll give Cullen a ring and have him deploy some crime scene investigators. They'll be able to take impressions of the prints, and we can use it to compare against any suspects we might eventually get," he said.

"We've nothing to tie this place to David or Thomas yet," she said in frustration.

"We have," he argued back. "My instinct."

"That won't stand up in court, Booth," she responded. He began to move around to the other side of the hut, tearing his shirt on a thorny shrub that was stuck in his path. "Watch that," he said to Bones behind him.

The nettle stings he incurred when making his way to the door of the hut reminded him of his childhood. He heard a noise from behind and saw Bones bending down, pulling up leaves. He gave her a puzzled look.

"Dock leaves," she said as if was the answer to the why of the universe. She sighed as if he was stupid. "They contain an alkali that will neutralise the acid of the nettle sting."

"I know what dock leaves do, Bones, I just wondered why you were getting them?" He said, amused.

"You've got nettle rash coming up on your arms from where you've been stung," she said. "If I rub these on then it won't irritate you so much."

He grinned at her, ignoring the temptation to ask if they could cure the irritation that she caused. She was looking at him with concern in her eyes and he wondered exactly how much she would hit him if he reached over to her and pulled him to her for a kiss. He liked the idea that she was looking out for him. "I'm a big boy, Bones, I can look after myself," he said with a sarcastic laugh, wanting to hide what he was really thinking.

She stood up, still holding the dock leaves. "I'm aware of that, Booth," she said with a biting tone to her voice. "I'm just trying to help you out, like you were with my bag that you're still carrying." He nodded at her, taking her point, liking that she had made it, and what it implicated. His eyes locked with hers and he wished that they were anywhere but here, with all the time in the world available to play out these feelings that they were both obviously having.

He pulled himself away and looked at the door. Old, wooden, and looking extremely vulnerable, it had been fitted with a new lock. He tapped it with his fingers, the sound more solid than he expected. "This has been reinforced," he said glancing at Bones who still held the dock leaves. He took a couple of steps back and leapt at it, kicking it with some force. The outer wood cracked, but his foot hit another wall of wood, this time not weathered and quite solid. He kicked it again and a third time, feeling it weaken. Splinters injected themselves into his leg and he grimaced with the pain.

"You okay?" Bones asked. Booth nodded, backing up further and running up at the door. This time it flung open, revealing a small dingy hideout, flies buzzing at the ivy covered windows, trying to get out. The small room smelt of waste, and he noticed a bucket in a corner than someone had defecated in. There was a little table and a camping stove, with a small canister of gas, like the fishermen would use. On the table was a tackle box. He lifted up part of the lid and saw a few maggots swarming about, some had already metamorphed into puparia, and one had actually transformed into a fly, escaping out of the box. "Present for Hodgins," Booth uttered.

"He'll be thrilled," Brennan said, hearing him.

"You're not being sarcastic are you?" He responded. She shook her head. He rolled his eyes.

"He'll be able to give you a good idea of when that box was left there." She was fixated with something under the table, using a flashlight from her kit to light the scene. Even with the light creeping in from the door the hut was still like something from a horror movie, dark, dusty and too quiet.

"Booth!" She drew his name out as she called him. He bobbed down and looked under the table. A t-shirt lay there, a hole in one arm. He could just about make out the batman emblem on the lapel, the same as what David Matthieson's parents had described as what he'd been wearing the night he'd been missing. "And here," she pointed to one of the table legs where a scrape of material was tied, roughly cut at its ends. "He was tied up to the leg of the table," she summarized, her eyes checking out the world at child's height.

"There's no blood," Booth said, shining a torch around. "He's still alive."

Bones stood up suddenly, looking at a cupboard that was covered with dust, a few old bottles sat there. "We aren't certain of the cause of death, Booth. There may have been no blood shed." He watched as she looked at the bottles, deep concentration on her face.

"Booth," she whispered. "I need to get these things out of here."

"What are they," as he stood up the brightening of the sunlight through the door highlighted a dark patch in the wooden floor.

"I think I've got an idea for cause of death," she said, putting one of the bottles back down. "If they are what I think they are then they are lethal and can't be inhaled."

"Those things?" He asked in surprise, looking at the containers.

She nodded. "What's that on the floor near you?" She asked, leaving the bottle on the cupboard.

"It's a stain and it looks fairly recent," he said, crouching down near it, putting his nose close. "Smells like vomit." She copied his actions and nodded. "We need the crime scene people in here. They need to swab that," she pointed to the stain, "and take those bottles back to the lab."

Booth reached for his phone. "No reception," he said, pocketing it. "Let's secure this place and head a little further down the river. I know there's a phone mast if we travel east, so I should be able to make a call when we get close. We know David had definitely been held there."

"We also know that that the killer may have held Thomas for some time before killing him. Don't give up hope, Booth, we will find David well," Brennan moved over to him, pulling up the short sleeve of his t-shirt and taking the dock leaves out of the pocket where she had put them and gently rubbing his skin with them. The itching he had been suffering in silence began to cease and those thirty seconds of having Brennan close and touching him contrasted greatly with the dim and dingy hut they were in.

They walked out of the small building, the bright afternoon sun blinding them, the trees and tall weeds shakily slightly in the rippling breeze that Booth thought hinted at a storm brewing. He felt a familiar sense of urgency as he thought of David held up in some place like the hut with thunder and lightning warring in the sky, and his resolved to find the boy doubled.

"You're limping," he heard Bones say as they started walking once he had done what he could to patch up the entrance to the hut. He hoped they wouldn't be gone long, and as the place wasn't clearly visible from the river banks he doubted that any stranger would wander in to it, and the perp on seeing it disturbed would probably run a mile.

"I've got splinters in my leg from kicking down the door," he confessed.

"I should look at them," she said worriedly. "I have a first aid kit in my bag," she nodded to the bag that he was carrying again.

He shook his head. "In a bit, Bones. We have to get the forensics people in here quick. What is that stuff you found, and how can it relate to the cause of death?" he wanted to take her mind off his leg, knowing that she would carry on with it otherwise until she could get her tweezers and antiseptic and make it hurt more than it was doing now.

"I'm not sure until I can check it out at the lab, but I think it's a form of poison," she told him. "It looks like salt but with the containers its in, and the fact that I can't see a logical reason to have that much salt in a fishing hut – which is what I assume that used to be – I think Thomas Dyer was poisoned."

"Wouldn't there have been a trace of the poison in the bones, or what little skin and hair there was left on the body?" Booth asked.

Bones shook her head. "Some poisons don't leave a trace. There's a few I can think of that looks like salt and don't leave any form of themselves behind, but I need to get the jars back to the lab before I can give you a name."

"Wouldn't they be hard to come by?" Booth asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Bones shook her head. "A lot of lethal poisons have been used in every day things, until they were banned. Those every day things may still be available in someone's garage, or a cleaning stock somehwhere."

Booth nodded, "Like a school," he answered,checking his phone to see if he had reception yet. No luck. He heard the peaceful sound of the river trickling as they walked by it, the sunlight colouring the sky blue and a few clouds now collecting on the horizon. He watched Bones as she walked slightly in front of him on the narrow path, her hair escaping the tie she had secured it in earlier. They had been walking maybe twenty minutes when she stopped suddenly and he almost walked into the back of her.

"Bones?" he queried.

"Over there," she pointed, leading his eyes to what had caught her attention.

A bird flew up, a dark silhouette in the sky, calling out across the still silence. Soon that silence would be broken by much more than a bird.

* * *

_Have I said how much I love reviews? Plenty of you have read the previous chapter, but not too many of you told me what you thought? I like to know - it helps me get better at writingand it motivates me - keeps me away from staring at pictures of Danny Messer... Sigh_

_Thank you to all those who do review, you people rock, and I hope you all have special dreams about you're very favourite person. I hear the Sandman's doing deals on Booth tonight..._

_Review x_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews - I'm overwhelmed with how many people are enjoying the story. There is more fluff coming, I promise, as well as more plot - but hey, read and you'll see.**

**A big hello to Esmerelda from the TP pages!**

**I do apologise for the cliffhangers...

* * *

**

Chapter 10 – Splinters

Brennan began to pace through the long grass, aware of the movement of crickets around her and the sun burning the back of her neck. She pulled her hair down to offer the skin some protection and tucked the tie into her pocket. Booth was walkalong sideher, both of them moving almost at a run. From the banks of the river she had seen an area of grass that had been flattened, and her sharp eyes had caught sight of a trainer, abandoned a little further in, but completely visible even in the dense covering of grass. There were no trees now except for the odd sapling that had been planted by a local school or an environmental group, and the sun's power seemed to have increased. She was concerned about having left the hut unattended, but knew that there was nothing that they could do until they had called for back up. She saw Booth check his phone again, and heard him curse. Still no reception, and her own was the same.

They came near to the flattened grass, approaching it slowly and watching where they stood, not wanting to disturb any evidence, should they be needing any. She saw it lying there, skin almost completely eradicated like Thomas Dyer, a few tendons holding bones together. This time there was no blanket, and this time the boy was a lot older; but still, she felt the same wince of pain and disgust at this type of human behaviour.

"How old?" Booth asked, not moving from the space he had been stood in when he had first seen the body.

"I don't know – teenager – but I need to take a closer look to be exact," she went a little closer, kneeling down and wafting away the flies that were buzzing round the corpse, eyeing the last little bits of flesh that were still there. "He's not been here long," she said back to the agent, who was still not moving. "There are no hatched eggs, so less than twelve hours. Hodgins will be able to tell us more."

"Blow flies will still lay their eggs on that?" Booth asked. "There's barely any flesh."

"But there is some, which is lucky for us. He's not done as good a job with the bleach this time. This was a rush job." She felt a spot of wet on her arm and noticed that the light was fading and the temperature had dropped, clouds beginning to cover the sky ominously. She turned round and looked at Booth. "Seeley," she shouted. "You need to get reception on that thing quick," she said in exasperation. "There may be evidence here and we need to get someone to process the scene." He was silent. "Booth?"

She stood up and left the body, Booth's silence worrying her. She strode over to him, feeling another spot of rain on her face. The air was promising thunder, as were the Limothrips Cerealium – thunder flies – that were flying about, which they often did before a storm. Looking at him, she saw that he was in quite a bit of discomfort.

"My leg's not too good," he winced.

"Show me," she demanded. He lifted up the trouser leg and she saw that he had a collection of rather large and nasty looking splinters in his calf, plus a gash that looked as if it had been done by a nail. "I need to see to that, it's getting infected."

He shook his head and handed her his phone. "I'll stay with the body – you run up the river bank till you get reception, and then dial Cullen," he instructed. "I'll live," he assured her.

She set her chin stubbornly, glaring at him. "Fine, Booth, but that cut needs looking at. It's infected already."

"I know, I can feel it," he groaned, edging to the body, having gotten a pair of gloves and some evidence bags out of her kit. "I'll scan around. I'd say we have a few more minutes before the skies open." She looked at him, puzzled. "Before it rains, Bones," he explained.

She nodded. "But the sky can't open."

"I know, and so do most other people, it's an expression, probably from before people understood precipitation," he said, sarcasm brewing in his words.

"That would answer it," she agreed. "I'll be as quick as I can." He nodded, and she knew he was watching her as she ran back toward the river, checking the phone every few seconds. Less than five minutes after she had left Booth she saw the bars appear on the phone that meant she had a signal. Stopping abruptly she searched through the phone book, not knowing how to find somebody's number quickly on this model – she couldn't even do that on her own. She past her own numbers, 'Bones Home', 'Bones Lab', 'Bones Mob' and smiled as she saw them, having a feeling that Booth knew her numbers already. 'Cullen' came shortly after and she hit dial, feeling slightly apprehensive at the prospect of taking to the man whom she knew did not like her.

"Booth," he greeted when he answered the phone.

"Agent Cullen, it's Dr Brennan," she said, as firmly as she could.

"Then why are you using Booth's phone?" She could hear the dislike in his voice. "Have you shot him by accident?" She did not like him also.

"No. We've found another body and a hut where there is evidence to suggest that David Matthieson was held. I also suspect that the cause of Thomas Dyer's death was poisoning, and the substance that was used is inside the hut. We need forensics and people here to help us put as soon as possible," she heard a growl of thunder reverberate around her as she spoke. "The weather is also going to be a hindrance."

"Where's Booth?" His boss snapped.

"He's with the body. He's sustained an injury and we had no phone reception. I've ran until I could pick up the service," she answered. "Look, Agent Cullen, we need someone here as quickly as possible," a few drops of rain began to fall heavily on her hair. She gave the man details of their whereabouts.

"I assume you are going back to Booth?" Cullen asked. "And therefore you'll be non contactable?"

"Yes, I need to see how the infection is in his leg, and do what I can with the body before the rain washes away any evidence. There are blow fly eggs that could be used to determined…"

"Fine, Dr Brennan, save your explanations for the rest of the squints," she heard Cullen say. "I've got someone on it – they'll be with you soon."

She hung up, folding the phone and running back over her steps, calling out Booth's name as soon she was close enough for him to hear.

"Bones!" She heard him shout back. He was crouching next to the body, trying to set up a canopy with a large plastic bin sack that had been in her kit and several tall branches that he must have scavenged for.

"Good idea," she praised. He nodded. "How's your leg?"

"I'll live," he replied, voice serious. "How long till the cavalry come?"

"Cullen said they were on their way. He really doesn't like me, does he?" She replied, squeezing under the canopy that was now being lightly dripped on by the beginning of the downpour.

"He's not keen," Booth struggled under with her. "From what my inexperienced, untrained eye has deduced while being here I can't see any big dints in the bones, or breaks that look fresh." Brennan took hold of the flashlight and began to look at the bones. She figured that they were of a male aged between thirteen and fifteen. He had been in good health, with the usually childhood injuries with old breaks to his arms and legs. The fact that he had those breaks could assist in identifying him. She said all her thoughts out loud, as she would if she was at the lab and was dictating to Zack, or into a machine. She saw Booth looking at her, amusement on his face which she found disconcerting.

"This is how I work," she defended. Booth grinned back at her.

"I know. It's just…" he laughed and looked away.

"Just what?" She pushed, feeling paranoid.

"You look, well, some men would say you looked kinda sexy, all involved like that with your work," he gave that smile that would have been irresistible to most women. She felt her stomach jolt at the look, and realised she wasn't as immune to himas she'd like to be.

"Booth," she counteracted. "You know you're telling me that I look sexy over a dead body, don't you?" She said dryly.

"I didn't say you looked sexy, I said that some men would find you sexy. I never said I was one of them," he waved his finger at her, trying to look stern and meaning what he said, but he was desperate to laugh. Her eyes danced with his as she heard voices heading to them.

Brennan poked her head out of under the canopy and saw members of the FBI's forensics team heading to them. Both she and Booth escaped from under the plastic sheet, the sky now dark and threatening above their heads. Rain had begun to fall steadily, large, heavy drops beating down. She watched as other people photographed the remains and checked the area for any evidence that she and Booth had missed, but it seemed that they had been pretty thorough. She saw one man asking Booth to show them the way to the hut, and Booth began to lead him away, closely followed by a couple of other members of his team. She caught up to him; he still had her kit, still carrying it for her. She noticed that he had a slight limp from the infection that was in his leg, and she realised that they had to get it treated before it became worse. She also knew that telling him that he needed to get it seen too would not help either.

It seemed to take less time to get to the hut than what it had done to get to the place where they had found the body, even though the floor was now bouncing with heavy rain, puddles quickly forming as the ground didn't have time to soak in all the liquid.

The hut was as they had left it, Booth's lock up job having been effective in keeping out the rain. She watched, someone having passed her a large, black umbrella, as the forensics people entered the house. She shouted out instructions that she knew weren't necessary with regards to the bottles of what she suspected were sodium monofluoroacetate, or Compound 1080, a poison used to kill vermin that had been banned in the states in 1972. She imagined that Cullen would have the forensics people look into the poison, although she was willing to bet that it was what she thought.

Cullen appeared behind them, making Booth jump. She smiled as the FBI agent looked startled by his boss. "Well done," he said to them. She looked at him with some shock. Was that compliment meant for her as well? "We'll have the body taken to your lab, Dr Brennan," Cullen nodded at her, ducking his head under the umbrella. So far Booth was proving his masculinity by not taking shelter, and was now soaking wet. "I suggest you both get some sleep, and go straight home after this. The body can wait, Dr Brennan," he said sternly. "Tiredness leads to errors and there are no room for errors in this game. It's six o'clock," she was momentarily stunned by the time, having not realised just how long they had been outside for. "And the identification can wait until tomorrow. You'll also be interested to know that we received a phone call twenty minutes after the doctor phoned, informing us that there was a body just past the fisherman's place."

Booth raised his eyebrows. "With all due respect, Sir, a little boy is still missing," a roll of thunder punctuated his sentence.

"And with all due respect, Agent Booth, we have people out looking for him. We have had a sighting in a derelict house just near the Sanuye River, and we are following that up," Cullen responded at his most biting.

"The courtyard in the school…" Booth began.

"Mrs. Dunn has promised to have a locksmith open the doors tomorrow and you can look round then. Agent Lorrimer looked at the locks this morning, and the door itself and was quite emphatic in saying that it did not appear to have opened for sometime," Cullen eyed him.

"I don't know, Sir," Booth began.

"I do, Booth, go home! Take Dr. Brennan and go somewhere and then sleep! You'll be more use to me if you've slept and had some time to think all this through. You're not the only one working in this case, you know!" Cullen's voice

"Yes, Sir," Booth responded. She could tell from his demeanour that he was annoyed.

"We can handle things from here," he said, hinting at them to go. Brennan looked at him, she was desperate to start working on the body, but she knew that in some ways it would be easier to begin in the morning, when she had recovered from this tiredness and Angela was there to begin a reconstruction.

She felt Booth take hold of her wrist and begin to pull her away, finally ducking under the umbrella, now that he was completely soaked.

-----------------------------------

Booth knew he was struggling to hide the pain that his leg was causing him as he and Bones trekked back to his car. His calf muscle felt tight, and every step felt like he was tearing skin, a shooting pain whipping through him. There had been a rusty nail that he had noticed after he had kicked the hut door through and he figured that he must've caught it. The thin trousers he had worn had been torn, and what material was still where it should be was rubbing against the splinters he had also acquired, causing them to shift about in his skin, making him grimace with the irritating pain. He knew Bones was aware of his discomfort, and the sensible thing would to be to stop and let her at least take out the splinters and put some antiseptic cream on the cut, but it was streaming down with rain, and they were already drenched. He didn't want to keep them outside any longer than necessary.

Finally, he saw the car in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. "Here," he said, handing the keys to Bones.

She looked at him with confusion.

"You're going to have to drive," he said.

"Your leg's bad," she said, looking at him with the same expression his mom used when rebuking him for playing outside in the rain, or refusing to take a painkiller if he had a headache, or for eating too much ice cream. He nodded, wincing a little.

"You think you can manage to drive it?" He asked, knowing that her indignance would take the attention away from his leg.

"I am a good driver, Booth. I shouldn't think your car is that much different to drive than mine," she retorted.

"You might even be able to park this one," he taunted. She glared back, remotely opening the doors.

He got into the passenger side, a new experience for him, and pushed the chair back as far as it would go, stretching out his leg. "You want me to take you to the emergency room and get that leg checked out?" He heard Bones say as she switched on the ignition.

"Can't you do something with it?" He asked, not feeling in the slightest bit like sitting in a hospital for four hours.

"I'm not a medical doctor," she replied, tentatively driving off.

"No, I'm aware of that, Bones, but you've been on enough digs in the middle of nowhere to know how to treat things like this. Can't you just drive us back to yours and have a look at it?" He said impatiently.

"I suppose. But if it is really bad then you're going to have to get medical attention," she replied, now seeming at ease driving his car. He watched her as discreetly as he could. It felt strange, her doing the driving, especially in his car. He studies the way she navigated herself around the streets, her caution and care, anticipating the movements of other drivers just as he would have done. He felt a pounding in his chest and the sudden urge to reach out a hand and touch her knee, just make contact with her.

The journey seemed to take no time at all and he realised that this was because he was enjoying the time he had just to be in her presence, able to watch her and take in her scent and nearness. She pulled up onto her drive, parking behind her own car. He opened his door and gingerly stepped out, trying to keep his leg straight. He put his hand in his pocket and fished about for his keys, knowing that hers was now on his key ring. He found them before she got hers outand jangled them at her. She gave him a half smile, and he wondered if she found it a little weird that someone else had the ability to enter her home after so long with it just being her.

She let him get ahead of her and open the door. He now felt a little strange, unlocking the door to her place, and he noticed that the atmosphere between them had changed. It wasn't awkward exactly, but this was unchartered territory between them; this was a different dynamic to their relationship.

He stepped back and let her go in first, noticing that she hadn't set her alarm. He would have to speak with her about that. She entered, taking off wet shoes and putting them in a shoe rack. He followed her actions, wincing as he bent down to slip off his trainers, and banging the door shut behind them.

"I've got some big baggy t-shirts and jogging pants," she said, looking at his saturated clothes. "They were an old college friend's who came to stay with me once, and left them behind."

He almost asked if he had been her lover, but managed to stop himself, knowing she wouldn't appreciate the question. "They would be great," he said, uncertain of how to behave.

"I should get those splinters out, and then you can have a shower before I put cream on. The water will wash out the cut," she looked at his leg, and beckoned him to follow her upstairs.

He hadn't been upstairs before in Bones' house, and he felt a little nervous as he walked up the stairs, dripping water over the plump, cushioned carpet. It was tastefully decorated, mementoes from the various places she had been hanging off wall, two tall wooden figures that almost gave him the heebie jeebies stood at the top of the steps. It was pretty much how he imagined Bones' house to look.

He followed her into her bedroom, sitting on the king sized bed, a plain cream coloured duvet thrown over it. The room smelt of sleep and of her. She left him there for a second and returned with a large, white bath sheet.

"Take your trousers off, and put this round your waist," she instructed, passing him the towel. "It'll be easier to see where the splinters are if there's no material in the way."

He grinned at the bizarreness of the comment. Things you never think you'd hear your partner say. If her saying those words had ever been imagined in his head before then they were certainly not in that tone.

"You don't have to turn your back, Bones," he said, laughter in his voice. "I have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm respecting your privacy, Booth," she retorted. He dropped the trousers on the floor and pulled off the soaking t-shirt, tying the bath sheet round his middle.

"It's safe to look now," he said, noticing a smile playing on her lips as she looked at him. She instructed him to put his leg up on the bed and sat facing him, tweezers in hand. She had already put the overhead light on, brightening the darkness caused by the darkened, rainy sky, and now she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp.

"Some of these look quite inflamed, Booth," she said. He didn't care. All he could feel were the gentle fingers of Temperance Brennan caressing his skin. He was the only thing she was focusing on right now, and he was enjoying it. He made eye contact with her, and she automatically looked away, cheeks a little flush. He knew that she was aware of the tension between them, here, in her bedroom, the weather outside stormy with the thunder pounding. Then he felt her pulled a splinter out of his skin and jerked violently, and thoughts of seducing Bones evaporating as the pain broke the tension.

"Sorry," she muttered, before attacking the next one.

"How many are there?" He gasped through gritted teeth.

"Quite a few more," she replied. "It would help if you could relax a bit more," she said sternly.

He spluttered. She tried to stop a grin, evilly pulling out another splinter while maintaining eye contact. He bit on his lip and refused to give her the satisfaction of yelling.

"You, Seeley Booth," she said, running a finger over the area of skin where there had been several splinters. "Are a big baby."

He put his hands behind his head and smiled at her, relieved that the pain was over.

"Turn over," she ordered, wet hair dripping on his leg.

"What?"

"You have more on the other side, turn," she said, prodding his thigh. He switched himself round, not unaware of how she had looked at his body. He buried his head into her pillow and inhaled her scent, wondering what it would be like to be able to bury his face into her hair; he heard a relaxed sigh leave his mouth before the next wave of pain hit him.

"I'm sorry, Booth," he heard her say. "That one was next to the cut. I really don't like causing you pain."

"Are you sure?" He turned his head round so he could see her. She didn't look like she was enjoying it; she wasn't smiling, and her eyes looked worried. "I always had you down as being a bit sadistic."

"In your dreams, Booth," she retorted.

"Many times," he put his head back down on the pillow, bracing himself for the next wave of pain.

"That's the last," she finally said, swinging her legs off the bed and putting the tissue with the splinters in the bin.

He turned back over and sat up, a thrill going through him at the fact that he was lying on her bed. She stood close enough for him to grab her, and he fought the urge to take hold of her and pull her onto the bed with him, although the look she was giving him he could almost read as asking him to touch her. Her eyes were wide and intensely blue, her shirt sticking to her with the wet, showing off her curves. He knew she was aware of his eyes moving over her, and the heat in the room began to become more intense; he was sure that the windows had steamed up.

"I'll just put some towels out for you in the bathroom," she said, backing out of the bedroom after what had seemed like an eternity of silence. He sighed and nodded, lying flat out on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

------------------------------------

Brennan dug out towels from the linen cupboard and hung them over the side of the bath. She added some extra shower gel and hair products to the shower cubicle, unsure of what Booth would want to use. Images of him in the shower flew in to her mind. She had already had an eyeful of his legs, muscular and toned, covered with dark hair, and hadn't been able to take her eyes off his chest, a fact she knew he had noticed, given the smirk on his face. She wondered what it would be like to be against his chest, feeling his heart beat as she had felt it when he had held her to him in the river. She shook her head, trying to empty out the thoughts and images, focusing on the fact that Booth was here because he had been injured and this had been the easiest place to get back to.

She walked into her room and saw Booth lying on his back, looking at the ceiling. "The bathroom's ready," she said, her eyes hovering on his chest, before swiftly moving when he looked at her.

"Great," he said, springing up and wincing with the deep cut in his leg. "You going to put some cream or something on it after?" He asked.

"I can if you want, but there's no reason why you can't do it yourself," she said, not realising why he was asking.

He gave her a grin. "Maybe I think your touch will help it heal quicker," he said.

"No body has a healing touch…" she began, not knowing how to deal with his flirting while he was stood semi-naked in her bedroom.

"Maybe it's just an excuse to have you touch me," he said, moving a little closer to her. She moved back, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. He moved slowly out of the room, giving her a grin that made her wish she was getting in that shower with him, his slight limp almost humorous until she saw the towel slip from round his waist, giving her a full view of his almost naked back.

She rested against the door frame, watching the bathroom doorclose and wondered how the night was going to end.

* * *

_I know, another cliffie kind of, but hey, you know what to do to make me update quickly. Press review, say hi and tell me what you think of the chapter and the story so far. I hope I'm doing okay with Temperance - she is such a hard character to write._

_Any type of review - smileys, signed, unsigned (that means you don't have to bea fanfic member - I didn't know that and I spent ages lurking and not reviewing!), one word or ten paragraphs long_...

weiver x


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for all the really supportive and encouraging reviews, even the ones that called me all kind of evil! This is going to be kind of a long note, I do apologise, although I will continue at the end of this chapter.**

**This chapter wasn't planned for - it wrote itself in the wee small hours of the morning as my muse wouldn't let me be. My muse is an elf called Eldred, and he is officially evil, stopping me from sleeping. The moral of the tale is that this story is now 22 chapters long.**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 11 – Denial

The torrent of warm water that poured out of the shower was as near to heaven as Booth thought he could be at that particular moment in time, the water soothing his skin and easingmuscles that were beginning to ache after the stresses of the past few days. Bones obviously liked her showers; the one she had had installed was a state of the art power shower and he could almost believe that hundreds of tiny hands were massaging his body, such was the pressure of the water. The corner cubicle was one of the larger models, big enough for two, he noticed, and he wondered if Bones had ever shared it with anyone else. He imagined her being in here now with him and grinned at the notion, thinking of how she might be. He imagined her to have a bit of a wild side underneath that cool, impersonal persona. He laughed out loud at the thoughts he was having. This was ridiculous! These fantasies were going to remain just that unless he actually did something about them. He wondered how she would react if he went to kiss her; there had been moments, he knew when it wouldn't have been unnatural to have done so; he just worried for his life if her reaction wasn't good. Still, he resolved, the next time an opportunity arose, he would grab it – with both hands.

He turned off the shower and reached for one of the towels that Bones had left out for him to use, wrapping himself in the white fluffiness, and ignoring the throbbing going on in his calf. His thoughts drifted to the case they were working on and he cursed with frustration when he thought about how Cullen was being reluctant to investigate inside the courtyard. He was sure that something was there, maybe the cleaning fluid that had been used to clean the bones up, or maybe something else that would help them discover who was doing this.

He tied the towel around his waist and opened the door, finding the clothes that Bones had promised folded neatly outside of it. He grinned as he picked them up. The t-shirt was an old college one, the printed slogan peeling off from the material, and the jogging pants had clearly seen better days more than a few years ago. He closed the door, not bothering to lock it. If Bones should walk in then he wouldn't be too upset, quite the opposite in fact.

He looked around her bathroom, noticing the small collection of perfumes that were on a shelf, and the rather expensive looking assortment of creams and lotions. He picked one up; exfoliating facial wash. That sounded painful. He opened the cupboard that was above the shelf and noticed something he was familiar with; hair gel. Taking it down, he unscrewed the lid and took it over to the mirror, applying it as he would do in his own home, styling his hair with care.

He pulled on the t-shirt, noticing that it was too big, even for him, although the jogging bottoms were fine, if a little on the short side. He hung the towels neatly over the bath, a habit developed by living alone and not having anyone to pick up after him, and then he left the room, popping his head in Bones' bedroom and seeing her lay on her stomach on her bed, head buried in a book, and wearing the same robe he had seen her in before.

For a brief moment he felt like he had come home. She looked so relaxed; lay there on the large bed, engrossed in her story. He desperately wanted to go and sit next to her, move the hair away from her face or gently massage her shoulder; it would seem like such a natural thing to do. She was more than his partner, he knew that, and probably had done for some time. If there was no case he found an excuse to see her, or to call her. If she wasn't paying him any attention he would seek it like a boy in the playground would, although he hadn't gone as far yet as pulling her hair.

And now she lay there, oblivious to the fact that he was watching her. It felt like he should be there as more than a partner, more than a friend, and he knew, more than a lover also. He stepped into the bedroom and sat down next to her on the bed, as he had pictured. She was still, her breathing slow and relaxed, her features calm and serene. He kept his hands on his knees, not knowing quite how far to go.

"Hey," he said quietly. She turned onto her side like a large cat and looked up at him.

"Hey," she whispered back. He knew that if Angela were here now she would have scuttled out of the room, telling anybody she saw about the unbelievable sexual tension between them. Her eyes were fixed on his, he wondered what she was thinking, if the same thoughts were in her mind that were plaguing his.

"What are you reading?" He asked. Lame, he thought, what a lame thing to say.

"Some trashy hen lit thing Angela told me to read," she explained, moving her eyes from his and looking at the front cover. "Ange said I should identify with the situation of the protagonist."

"I think you mean 'chick lit'. And do you identify with the protagonist?" He stretched out, lying next to her, hands itching to touch.

"Well, Dina, is attracted to a man who she works with, Liam, and they basically have a lot of unresolved tension between them Inevitably, they will get together and have sex, and then confess to being in love," she shrugged.

"Why are you reading it if you know what happens?" He said with a confused laugh.

She shrugged again. "I guess it's got me hooked," she answered. "It's mindless – there's nothing to learn from it, no great revelations made by the author about society. It's just Mills and Boon under a different name."

"My mom used to read Mills and Boon," Booth reminisced. "She would get all gooey eyed and glare at us if we interrupted her when she got to the 'best bit'. I read one once just to find out what the 'best bit' was."

Bones put the book faced down, adding to a number of folds in the spine. "What was the best bit in your opinion?" She said with a smile.

Booth laughed, leaning on one arm, facing her. "Have you ever read any Mills and Boon?"

She nodded.

"I'm surprised, Bones."

"Why? I would think many teenaged girls read them. They give an insight into idealised love, and the patterns of courtship," she frowned back at him.

"I don't see you as being the average teenaged girl," he said softly, interested in her and not wanting to antagonise her at all.

"I suppose I wasn't," she said quietly. "I read two or three of them when I shared a room in a home with a girl named Emma. She read so many of them. She had a deep need to be loved, and the books must have given her that feeling when she placed herself in the position of the main character."

His arm relaxed and his head dropped down to rest on the covers. His other arm went to her waist. He knew that she didn't share things about her childhood, and in one sense she still wasn't, she was talking about books; but never had she been this relaxed with anyone else that he had seen. She didn't flinch from his touch, but neither did she return it. "That's very psychological, Tempe," he said, using her first name, feeling that the conversation and where they were warranted it.

She smiled. "Societies are based on a need for love, both familial and erotic. Books, movies, other sources, can provide a placebo, or supply material for people to practise those feelings without fear of being hurt or abandoned."

"So why's Angela reading books like that, then?" He asked, lightening the conversation. "She practises those feelings on real people, quite often."

Bones laughed, the sound making Booth's heart ache. "But she isn't in love," Bones replied. "And that's what she's searching for – someone to share the mundane stuff with, as well as being a…a … beast in the bedroom," she looked confused at the adjective.

"You're quoting her, aren't you?" He said with a grin.

"Why, did I get the word wrong?"

"Knowing Angela I'd say you were spot on," he nodded, looking up at her. She was still leaning on one arm, barely a few inches away from him. Her robe gaped at the top, exposing enough flesh to let him know that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. He hoped she didn't notice the effect that she was having on him.

"So what did you think of the 'best bit'?" She said, giving him a smile that could be taken as flirtatious.

He laughed, rolling onto his back. "It gave me a few pointers," he admitted. "In terms of how to take a woman out, and make sure she was going to come back for more."

She laughed, the sound almost drowned out by the pounding of rain on the window. The room felt cosy and safe, and he knew that except from having Parker somewhere in the building with them, there was no one else he'd rather be with, and no place else he'd rather be.

For a minute there was silence between them although their eyes were telling stories themselves, ones he dared not try to read for fears of building up his hopes. The hand that had been on her waist travelled up to her face and moved away a lock of hair that had fallen out of the tie. One finger gently ran down her cheek and the hand fell back on the bed, not daring to continue its journey.

He looked at her; scared to move his eyes away should she escape. Her expression was serious, consumed by something, either this thing between them, or thoughts of places she'd rather be.

"Why _are_ you still reading that book?" He asked softly, not having the guts to move over and kiss her, like he was desperate to.

"I want to know how they eventually get together, I suppose," she answered after giving it some thought.

"Maybe you're projecting your feelings onto the male lead, and you want your own feelings to be resolved," he said, taking hiding in his usual antagonistic tone. "You know, like between the FBI guy in your books and the forensic anthropologist."

"That's way too much psychology, Booth," she responded. "And I've told you before; those characters are not based on anybody!"

Booth gave a deep chuckle as if he knew differently. He knew he had blown it. The relaxed atmosphere had gone as soon as he had accused her of projecting feelings. He hadn't been confident enough to kiss her, and now she was getting off the bed, slim, bare legs exposed by the short robe, and heading to the bathroom.

He jumped up off the bed, not liking this sense of failure. "Bones!" He called her. She stopped in the door way, turning back round to her. He made the two strides over to where she was and took a deep breath. He still remembered some of the scenes from his mom's books.

His hands went to her shoulders and he pulled her to him, bending down quickly and putting his lips to hers. To his surprise her arms went round his neck and she returned the kiss. His hands slipped round her waist, and on to the small of her back, pressing her close to his body. He felt his heart pounding with the force of the kiss as well as with the nerves he had had in the split second before it had happened. Her body felt small against his, but she returned the kiss with as much power as he did. He felt the kiss become deeper, more intense, and noticed that she was now leaning against the wall, her hand at the back of his neck, controlling the depth of it.

A fire burnt inside him as the kiss became softer, his lips moving away from hers and then returning, hungrily wanting more. Her hands were becoming demanding, nails digging into his shoulders, stopping him from moving away, not that he wanted to, not that he ever wanted to leave her grasp or have her stop touching him.

She began to slow the kiss, eventually breaking it. Her hands were on his shoulders, her face flushed and hair wild from where he hand been running his hands through it, the tie long since undone.

"Booth," she said, a little breathlessly. He braced himself for what was coming next. "What are we doing?"

"Kissing, Bones," he gave her a weak grin, his heart rate speeding up, not wanting to lose this moment, but knowing that it was somehow inevitable.

"We can't be," she began to reason.

"We just did," his hands stayed round her waist, savouring the feeling, in case she backed far away from him and he never got the chance to hold her again.

"We're – we're partners, Booth. I don't think this should be happening," he felt his heart sink. He removed his hands away from her and took a step back.

"It happened, Bones. God knows how you actually managed to let someone get close enough to kiss you, but you did, and you know, I'm sorry if you're now regretting it, but I'm not gonna," he made himself walk out of the room and walk downstairs, feeling a hurt that he hadn't thought possible after just one kiss.

-------------------------

Brennan waited to hear the click of the door as he opened it to leave, but it never came. She sat on the edge of the bed, and rubbed her face, images of the skeleton in the field and Booth's face as she had broken the kiss flashing through her head. She forced herself to stand up and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She dropped the robe on the floor and entered the shower cubicle, turning the shower on full force and feeling the water whip against her skin, warming her body that had been left cold by Booth's departure.

She didn't understand what she had said and done. It had been irrational - but then, the kiss had been irrational. She had seen it coming while they had been lay on the bed, taking about romance and books, and she had been leaning into him, he had been lying below her, letting her dominate, showing her a softer, less competitive side. She had been disappointed when he hadn't tried to kiss her, and then when he had gotten up, and grabbed her, pressing his lips onto hers she had heard a singing in her ears that had deafened her senses and obliterated anything else but the feel of him against her, her heart pounding against his.

It had felt safe in his arms, safe and exciting and a multitude of other things that she had thought she wouldn't experience having dived into her work to avoid such emotion ties. Because when it came to Booth she knew that the chemistry that Angela went on about was more than that, and any attempt at pacifying that chemistry would open Pandora's Box. There was more there than pure lust. Lust she could deal with; lust was something that could be solved for recreational purposes, like with Michael, like with Stuart if Booth hadn't have interrupted.

Booth wasn't just lust.

She knew he would die for her, he had already proved that. She knew he irritated the hell out of her too, but that was part of the attraction. She could banter with him; he didn't pretend to have the same knowledge as she did about science, but in other ways he was far more intelligent. She had learnt from him, and not many men could say that she had learnt something from them. Booth was her opposite, her balance, and she had no doubt that had things continued in her bedroom she would also have had the best sex of her life, with both of them battling for dominance, and he would let her battle, and not let her win unfairly, because he was her equal, her sparring partner, her antidote to being a miserable, lonely, anti-social scientist, who spent the rest of her days in the lab locked up with skeletons until she became one herself. Although she doubted that Angela would ever let that happen.

She could have something with Booth, and that was what she was scared of. These very raw, real feelings could develop into something she didn't know how to handle, something unpractised and unperfected.

She tipped her head back and let the water rinse her hair of the conditioner she had put on it, the water relaxing her slightly. She had moved away from him because she was scared. Yes, the work situation was not convenient, but they were both professionals, and she knew that anything that happened between them would not affect their ability to work together.

Nerves flew around in her stomach like butterflies. She stopped the shower and opened the door, grabbing a towel and noticing the one that Booth had used folded neatly over the bath. She closed her eyes in exasperation at herself. If she was Booth she would have gone now, driven away into the arms of some gorgeous blonde, who had the sense to recognise someone who would give her all her tomorrows.

She dried herself, automatically reaching for the moisturiser, wondering what she was going to say to Booth when she saw him. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the bathroom window a tad, noticing the pouring rain. His car was still there, parked behind hers. A feeling of excited anticipation grew through her, and she felt her cheeks flush, thinking about him. _I'm sorry if you're now regretting it, but I'm not gonna_, he had said. He had wanted to kiss her, and now she had hurt him.

She buried herself into the robe and went into her bedroom, looking at the bed with the memories of what had passed there fresh in her mind, as she knew they would be for sometime. She searched through her drawers, eventually finding a pair of clean jeans and a black top to put on.

Feeling downcast she headed downstairs, aware that Booth was still there, hearing clanging in the kitchen. Apprehension like she had never felt before hit her as she saw him, armed with a chopping board and onions, slicing for his life. Seeing him stood there, in Mark's old clothing, doing such a menial task made her long for him to be a permanent fixture.

He looked up, aware of her standing there. No smile appeared, although she managed one for him. Instead he seemed to chop a little harder at the onions.

"Booth," she began, searching for the words that would adequately express what she felt, without bombarding him with science.

"Leave it, Tempe," he shook his head, not looking up from what he was cooking. Her rarely used first name hit her like a dagger in the chest, and she felt her eyes well up with tears. Fighting them back she entered the kitchen area, separated from the dining part by a breakfast bar where Booth was. She began to get out place mats, setting the table, feeling like part of couple that had just had a row, and were getting on with normality at the same time as refusing to smile.

She looked at him from the top of a low cupboard door, peering over. Physically he was almost perfect, he was intelligent, smart, caring, trustworthy, all kinds of positive adjectives. He was a good dad, and suddenly, for no logical reason whatsoever and because of every anthropological and biology reason she knew, that was important.

She sat down, her back against the cupboard door, unable to move or comprehend the innate knowledge her body had provided her with. Booth turned round, putting down the knife and the carrot he was now slicing.

"Bones?" He crouched next to her. "What's the matter?" His hand went to her forehead, probably instinctively to check her temperature. She knew that her eyes had welled again, like clouds about to burst with the release of rain. "Hey," he said soothingly, pulling her up into his arms, his glaring eyes, and 'leave it, Tempe' expression vanished.

He kept hold of her, and she found herself crying into the old, scruffy t-shirt he was wearing. "It's okay," she heard him whisper softly into her hair, relishing being held by him. This didn't happen; she didn't show weakness in front of anyone, let alone Seeley Booth, but somehow this didn't feel strange.

Her tears slowed and he guided her over to a chair by the table. "What's the matter?" He asked, still holding one of her hands.

Fear shot through her. She couldn't tell him that she had gotten all emotion because she was thinking what a good father he was and how some irrational, ridiculously normal feelings had suffocated her. She fought the urge to run away from him and hide, burying her head in the sand and forgetting that he ever existed.

"Tempe, what is it?" He continued. She wanted to scream at him to go, get out of her house, but the small part of her that remembered his look upstairs when she had pulled away from the kiss stopped her.

"This case, it's getting to me," she half lied. It was upsetting her; David was still missing, she now had another unidentified skeleton waiting for herwhen shegot into work tomorrow.

"It's a bad one," he said. He had squatted down beside her, making her taller than him. She knew it was a subconscious way of making her feel as if she was in control; being higher gave her a better advantage. "But without you, we won't get this guy," he comforted. He watched her for a minute. "Bones, why don't you go read your book, or give Angela a call, while I cook us dinner?" He stood up, returning to his work station.

"Booth," she started, breaking the silence. "Why are you still here?"

"You want me to go?" He gestured to the door, a look of childlike worry on his face.

"No, I want you to stay," she said, surprised at the resolve in her voice.

"Then I'll stay," he said, seriously. She wondered if they were going to discuss talking about what had happened upstairs, and hoped not. Although she knew that the issue would not resolve itself.

She watched as he cooked, seemingly knowing what he was doing. He had found the wine and poured glasses for them both, sipping as he went along with his cooking, buried deep with concentration. Every so often he would glance up at her, still not smiling. His eyes were filled with hurt, and the thought that she had caused it was making her feel like the lowest of the low.

He opened the oven which he had already pre-heated, put in the glass dish that contained their dinner,and came and sat by her, carrying his wine.

"So, Bones," he said as he sat down. "What do you want to talk about that will keep us as far as away as possible from the topic of 'us'." A tinge of sarcasm was leant to his tone.

"The weather," she answered, looking him in the eye. "Let's talk about the weather."

"The weather," he repeated. "I guess it's a bit like us. One minute it's all shiny and bright and full of heat, the next minute someone's poured cold water over it."

She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bones. That was uncalled for," he apologised. "I have feelings for you," he began to explain. "Clearly now is not the time to talk about them."

She stayed silent, not sure what she should say. The rain drummed harder on the window.

"Booth," she said.

"Bones?"

"What's you favourite colour?"

"Your going to give me some anthropological reason for it aren't you."

"Maybe."

"Then I'm not telling."

She felt the tone lighten, and the smell from the over grew more delicious, and somehow, they began to talk their way out of the situation they were in, with both of her feet firmly remaining in a different river than the one they had been in recently.

* * *

_Right. I'd better justify her response before I get flamed! I don't see Brennan falling into his arms, she would kick up a stink and fight it first. Don't worry - you know I'm a fluff bunny, and this story will have a happy ending, but remember that its only half way through - another eleven chapters -at least -to go._

_I figured that as she is probably well read, she'd be familiar with Mills and Boon. I know she's useless with pop culture, butI thought that that would be one thing she would have been aware of with it being literary._

_Booth seems to be a very 'new man'. In the episodes I've seen when he's with Tessa, he appears very tender. I think he would understand his feelings and be more open with them than the average fella._

_I hope this chapter works, as I wrote it kinda obsessively late at night. Please let me know through that review button._

_Send a little inspiration my way. You could send Danny Messer too, but he might be kinda hard to come by. (thankfully my hubby looks a little like him - if I close my eyes!)_

_Please review!_

_Sarah x_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: A sugar coated Seeley/Ange for anyone who spots the Buffy reference, and can name the episode!_

_The title for this chapter is lifted from a Jeanette Winterson novel of the same title. I read it over ten years ago, yet it is still fresh in my memory as being one of the most perfectly written, well crafted and emotionally grabbing books I've read, and told in the second person. _

**_Disclaimer: All characters belong to Fox, Kathy Reichs and whoever else is behind the genius that gave us this show. Not mine - don't sue._**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 12 – Written on the Body

Booth watched as Brennan paced round the table, making notes about the condition of the bones, the age of them, and what evidence there was to suggest how the boy had died. His attention, however, had drifted from the skeleton onto the woman studying it, noticing as she smoothed her hair back away from her face, and spoke words he was unfamiliar with in a precise tone, clearly certain of what she was doing, the empress here, over her court.

He had woken up on her sofa, a single duvet tucked over him, and a pillow pushed under his head. He had slept peacefully; he was sure it had something to do with being near her, his dreams had been forgetful, merely the blurring of colour. For a second after waking he hadn't remembered the events of the previous day; and then he had recalled the heated kiss they had shared, and her regret of it, and a pain in his chest awakened him fully.

The rest of the evening had been passed pleasantly, but with the undertone of not discussing something that needed to be brought out into the open. They both knew that their relationship had changed; they both knew that there were feelings there that were more than friends or colleagues shared, the kiss had proved that. But it was a door that Bones was obviously not yet prepared to go through. He knew she kept her self distant, away from people and any means of being hurt or hurting somebody else. She didn't want to go through the pain of losing someone again, as she had done with her parents, he understood that. But by not allowing that risk she was barring herself from so many good things, and it frustrated him. He knew that however he tried to reason this with her, it would be pointless. She needed to understand it for herself.

He watched her as she examined certain bones more carefully, before passing the skull to Angela, who had given both of them several telling glances already that morning. He now understood how he felt about her; it was blindingly obvious to him now, as he imagined it had been to Tessa. He knew that the way he felt when he spoke of her, told people about her, would have been written across his body, in his mannerisms, in his eyes. If anyone studied him now as he watched her they would know that he wasn't watching a colleague, or someone who was good at their job. They would know he was watching the woman he loved.

Angela stood beside him, looking at her friend. "You want to come with me while I put a little make up on our friend here?" She asked, tactfully for her.

Booth nodded, and began to follow her in the room she worked in, sitting down on a chair while she set to work.

"Do you have the missing persons files coming over?" She asked.

"Yeah, Agent Smithson is on it," he answered in a monotone.

"Booth, sweetie," Angela began. "You wanna tell me what's happened with you and Bren? Since I got here at stupid o'clock this morning something's clearly not been right."

He looked up at her, knowing that she could probably read what had happened from the expression on his face, she just wanted to hear it from him.

"Booth," she began, sitting down near him with a large piece of paper and the thing she used to lean on when she was sketching. "I'm guessing that you don't want to talk to me about this; I am Bren's best friend. My theory is that you've finally kissed her, and after she had put her all in beginning to get her rocks off, she went cold."

"That's sounds like a good theory," he answered.

"It's Brennan," she said, seriously. "We know she has issues, but don't doubt for one second, Booth, that she doesn't love you."

"How can you say that? Has she told you how she feels about me?" He asked, the words lighting hope in his chest.

"I've known her too long. I've seen the way she looks at you when you come in. I know how she reacts to you, she thinks you're more than hot, and if you're honest with yourself, you know that too," Angela said without looking up from her drawing. "Let her analyse her feelings and understand what she wants. It won't take her long."

"What if what she decides isn't what I want?" Booth looked at the artist.

"Then you will just have to accept that," she said with a smile. "Booth, you are the only chance for a happiness she has never thought she could have. She will make the right choice." Angela smiled optimistically.

Booth nodded and stood up, feeling a little less like he was walking along a tightrope.

"I'll talk to her, Booth. She'll be expecting me to anyway," Angela said.

"Thanks," he replied uncomfortably, hands in pockets. "I'd better go and see what she's found out."

Angela nodded deep nods, squeezing her lips together.

He left her to work, heading back toward Temperance who was stood talking to Zack, clearly explaining something. As soon as he came into her peripheral vision she stopped speaking, her eyes going to him for a second, long enough for him to know that she was still analysing what had happened last night, and how she felt about it. He thought about what Angela had said, _don't doubt for one second, Booth, that she doesn't love you_. Did she love him? He wasn't intending on leaving, or going anywhere; he just wanted - needed - to be with her.

He approached her and Zack quietly, hands in their usual place. Their conversation continued as he got there, which was good, as it meant that they'd not been discussing him, not that he'd think for one minute that she'd discuss him with Zack.

"Whatcha got?" He said, as normally as possible. Unfortunately, he knew he had an edge to his tone, although given that Zack was half robot he wouldn't have noticed.

"The body is of a Caucasian male, aged between fourteen and sixteen. In good health; he has an old fracture to his left femur and another to his left tibia. There is no sign of any illness, or anything to suggest he died naturally or otherwise," she told him.

He nodded. "Like Thomas, then."

Zack woke from his scientific fantasy. "Exactly like Thomas. Even to the point of what the bones have been washed in, although the person who did this did not as good a job as he did of Thomas; there was a good bit of flesh left." Booth wondered at the young man's enthusiasm for the skin.

"Hodgins has been looking at the blow fly eggs that the forensics team preserved for him. His estimate is that the body had not been outside for any longest than three hours before the samples of the eggs were taken. There are also no other insect eggs or lava present, which confirms that the body wasn't out there for very long," Brennan added. "He put the body there while we were in the hut."

Booth looked at her directly. He knew that that discovery had pissed her off. It was if the killer was tormenting them, had he known where they were going to be.

The doors into the secured area of the lab opened and a young agent approached Booth, a look of fear on his face.

"Smithson," Booth addressed him, omitting the agent part. Smithson had only just started working for the Feds, and in Booth's eyes was a little too conceited to be allowed the full title just yet.

"Yes, _Agent_ Booth. I have the test results from the containers Dr Brennan found at the fishing hut," he said, annoying Booth even more with a smile. Booth snatched the envelope from him and passed it to Bones.

"We need a list of Caucasian males gone missing within – how long, Dr Brennan?" Booth looked toward her, trying to ignore the feeling that was now becoming familiar every time he saw her.

Bones shrugged. "The last two years. That's probably too broad. I'd also suggest keeping the search within this area, too. He has the same extra fluoride that Thomas Dyer had in his teeth."

Smithson nodded. Booth resisted the temptation to flick his ear. "Aged fourteen to sixteen when they disappeared."

"I'm on it, Agent Booth," Smithson gave him a mock salute and Booth silently counted to ten.

Brennan began to open the envelope, looking at what had been written there. "Sodium Monofluoroacetate," she confirmed.

Booth looked at her. "That's rat poison," he responded.

She nodded triumphantly. "Banned in the United States in 1972, as it was found to be an extremely toxic poison. We have cause of death."

"How does it kill?" Booth asked, not sure if he actually wanted to know the details.

"It interferes with Kreb's cycle," Bones rechecked the paper.

"Kreb's Cycle – Bones?" Booth shook his head.

"Kreb's Cycle is the exact sequence in which the body breaks down lactic acid, hence giving the body its major energy source. If anything was to interfere with Kreb's Cycle then the body would not be able to function and it would shut down," she looked at him, eyes bright as she revelled in her love of passing on knowledge.

"How come there was no trace of it in the bones or on the skin you found on the teenager's body?" He asked.

"This is a poison that isn't traceable. It works quickly. Within a few hours of ingesting the non toxic flouroacetate ions change into toxic flourocitric acid, which blocks Kreb's Cycle. This then results in vomiting shortly after ingestion, and it begins to affect the central nervous system and the heart. There can be seizures and the possibility of slipping into a coma. Death occurs because the ventricles of the heart start to beat to rapidly without actually doing anything, not pumping any blood around. Pulmonary edima may be another cause of death – when the lungs fill up with water, causing respiratory failure," she said, as if reading from a simplified textbook.

Booth nodded. "And this is what you think killed John Doe here and Thomas Dyer?"

"It's circumstantial evidence, but as a poison, Compound 1080 is virtually undetectable in a body. It's almost a perfect poison, and a horrible way to die. There were three jars of it – obviously left over from before it was banned. Whoever had those jars is your killer," she answered, any discomfort between them had gone with their focusing on the case.

"Could it hold up in court?" He asked, almost to himself. "No finger prints were found on the jars."

"If it's presented in the right way then, yes, a jury could be convinced. I am certain that this was the cause of death. It makes perfect sense. When I first saw the jars, I thought the substance was Compound 1080. It all adds up," she was cute when she was positive about something. He felt his heart skip a beat.

Angela had walked over to them, clipboard in her hand. "Bren," she interrupted. "If you have a minute I could do with your help." Bones turned, and began to go with them. Booth started to follow, but then saw Angela discreetly shake her head at him, and he retracted back, wishing he could be one of Hodgin's beetles and listen into their conversation.

--------------------------

Brennan followed Angela into her room and sat down where Angela pointed.

"What is going on?" Her friend asked her.

"Do you have a face to show me? We're expecting someone back with the missing persons files anytime soon," Brennan's eyes flashed, knowing what this conversation was likely to entail.

"You can have it once we've had a little chat. Now, Bren," Angela settled down in a chair she had pulled round so it was facing Brennan. "What's happened with you and Booth?"

"Nothing, it's just… nothing," Brennan's gestures became erratic.

Angela widened her eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I don't believe you. All morning, since I got here at six o'clock - and had to leave Ryan asleep in bed on his own - I have been watching you and Booth sneaking glances at each other. He looks like someone has told him that he's about to go on a mission to the South Pole, and you look like you're actually not concentrating on your job. What's eating you?"

Brennan knew that this was one battle she was not going to win. Angela was going to suck the details out of her, and Brennan wasn't too sure if she wanted to refrain from telling Angela about what had happen, she just wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. "Booth," she began. Angela's eyes lit up. "We – he – we – kissed." She said the last word very quietly.

"Was it bad?" Angela looked puzzled, Brennan's tone made it sound terrible.

The anthropologist shook her head. "No, it was good, better than good," she said in a monotone.

"Then why are you sounding like it was horrific? You and Booth kissed. It's only been waiting to happen since like years ago," Angela said, her voice rising in tone.

"Because - because, I don't understand," Brennan slumped back into the chair.

"What is there to not understand? You've been in love with the guy since you practically met him. He's sexy, and gorgeous, intelligent, caring, and you know, Bren, he's saved your life on at least one occasion," Angela persuaded.

"Because I don't do this, Ange," she confessed, feeling like she was dying inside as she said the words.

"Don't do what? Bren, sweetie, you're human, you're an anthropologist; you study human behaviour. You know that what you're experiencing is completely normal. People fall in love, they build a life together, and some even have children. Work doesn't make the world go round, love does," Angela's tone became serious.

Brennan shook her head, not knowing quite what to say. She knew that it would be difficult for most people to understand, including Angela. She was just so terrified of getting hurt; keeping people at arms length was the easiest thing to do, curling up into a ball like a hedgehog and flaring her spikes, which was what she had effectively done last night.

"Bren, I'm going to be blunt with you now; I know you've had a dreadful childhood, and you experienced a loss that no one should have to go through, and I know that it's hard to understand what's happening as it means making some changes, but there is a man there who is willing and desperate to accept you and all your baggage, and that is something so hard to find – God knows I've tried hard enough. You need to relax, hon, spank your inner moppet…" she paused at Brennan's confused look. "Never mind. You are going to have to deal with this, because if you don't you are going to end up spending the rest of your life wishing you had, and I think you know that, and that's why you're finding this so difficult," Angela finished, looking directly at her friend, trying to read her expression.

Brennan stayed silent. Angela's words had proven what she had assessed. This was not just going to go away. The kiss had been too good; having him in her home had been too good. Had he been another Michael then she wouldn't have been having these qualms, but Booth wasn't another Michael. Something more than just lust had entwined them together, and these were vines that she wasn't sure would snap easily or even knew if she wanted them to. She remembered the feeling she'd had when she had been in the kitchen, the thought crossing her mind about Booth's capabilities as a father. The fear that had caused pierced her again, and the expression on her face was telling of it.

"Bren, honey, what is it?" She heard Angela ask as she made her way closer to her chair, kneeling down next to her and placing a hand on her knee.

"Booth made dinner – after…"

"After you had kissed, and probably freaked out in him," Angela finished for her.

"I didn't freak," Brennan protested.

"Okay, you didn't freak. Booth made dinner," Angela prompted.

"And I was thinking about him, and what he was like, and I thought of Parker, and how good he was with him…" Brennan couldn't explain any more. She could write a book; develop characters with good, high levels of emotional intelligence, but when it came to verbalising her own feelings, she was illiterate.

"You know, Booth wants you. He won't pressure you into having more children… Oh my God, Bren! He made you broody!" Angela's nails dug into Brennan's leg. She shifted her pained limb away, frowning. "That's what's completely terrified you."

"It's just not something I want," Brennan argued.

"Until you've met the right man. You've explained to me before about how your body unconsciously seeks someone who's genetic details support your own, and can counteract any weaknesses," Angela attempted to use science against her.

Brennan nodded. "I don't want children, Ange. You know that. I'm useless with kids."

"You just think you are. You'd never be a conventional mom, but that doesn't mean you'd be a bad one."

Brennan felt unwanted tears prick at the back of her eyes. These were words she'd never thought she wanted to hear, but right now they were soothing, and somehow brightened the darkness that had flooded the inside of her.

"You need to talk with Booth about all of this," Angela said, knowing she was trying to encourage the impossible. But Booth was good at reading people; it would only take a word from Brennan and he would become her antidote to this fear she was in. Only Booth would be able to provide the reassurance she needed.

Brennan predictably shook her head. "We've never even been on a date. It was one kiss. He'll be over it and onto his next blonde lawyer before the end of the week," she stood up, showing that she wished to end this topic of conversation.

"I somehow doubt it, Bren, but you're going to have to suss that one out yourself," Angela stood up and passed Brennan the picture she had sketched of the boy whose bones were lay out on the table. Brennan took it and nodded.

"Thanks, Ange," she responded. A knock sounded at the door and a sheepish Seeley Booth entered. Bones looked at him, all the emotions from last night causing a downpour that knocked down the dam she had built. She passed the sketch back to Angela and fled out of the room, heading for the bathroom, almost running. She locked herself in one of the cubicles and rested her back against the closed door, inhaling deeply, trying to control her physical response to seeing him after her conversation with Angela. She did not understand how to deal with this. She could ask to be taken off the case, and have the Bureau find another forensic anthropologist to work with, or she could pass more of the police work onto Zack, but she doubted Booth would like that, or agree to it. She rested the back of her head against the door, looking up slightly at the ceiling, wondering how the hell she was going to solve this puzzle.

------------------------------

Booth looked at Angela once he had regained his composure having seen her bolt through the door at the sight of his presence. "If that's the effect I'm going to have on her, then I might as well forget it," he murmured.

"I think that's a good sign," Angela said, her eyes still watching Brennan as she scuttled away. "It means she's dealing with the feelings she's got rather than ignoring them."

Booth gave her his half smile, eyes showing obvious hurt.

"Hey, it will work out," Angela put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. "Whatcha got, anyhow?"

Booth handed her a few pieces of printed out paper. "Missing persons reports. I would hope that one of these would be your guy." She gave him the sketch that she had drawn. He studied for a few seconds and nodded. "He's in there."

She flicked through the papers, stopping at one near the top. "Patrick Kearney," she read, nodding. He fits everything," she looked at Booth. "Does this mean another devastating visit to the parents?"

He shook his head, looking at the details over her shoulder. "His parents moved to California six months ago after he had been missing for three months. It seemed pretty quick, but I think from what I've read, they thought he'd ran off there. Dreamt of being a movie star."

"He was only fifteen," Angela said, staring at the picture.

Booth nodded. "He was. What's even more interesting is that his elementary school was Greenhold." He pointed to the details on the sheet that gave them that information.

"It's somebody at the school, isn't it?" She said, eyes widening.

"It appears that way. When your friend gets back we'll be heading over there," Booth said, keeping the worry from his voice. He did not want to cause Bones any pain or fear; he wanted to alleviate that, in any way he could and if that meant disappearing from her life for a bit then so be it.

"I'll go check on her," Angela passed him back the papers and moved speedily out of the room.

-------------------

She found Brennan in the bathroom, rinsing her face with cold water and looking a little flushed. "I know," Brennan said as she locked eyes with her through the mirror. "He probably thinks I'm a complete idiot."

Angela shook her head. "No, he doesn't. He's just worried that he's upset you," she reassured. "The skeleton has an identity. Patrick Kearney – he used to go to Greenhold. Booth wants you there pronto."

Brennan nodded. "How do I deal with this, Ange," she looked scared.

"I actually think you're doing just fine, sweetie," Angela gave her smile. "You've got to handle it the best way that you can. You should try talking to Booth, though. That would make both you and him feel better."

Brennan nodded. "I have to refocus on the case now," she sank her elbows onto the unit next to the sink, holding her head and pushing fingers into her hair, looking anything but refocused.

"You do," Angela comforted. "You do."

-----------------------

Brennan sat silently in the passenger seat as Booth drove them to the school. The air between them was pregnant with a conversation that both needed to have, but were reluctant to initiate, particularly given the circumstances of the ride they were taking.

"It's too much of a coincidence. Three boys missing, two dead, and all went to the same school. That's the connection, that's the link. It's someone there, that's where he picks them from," Booth said, his face contorted with concentration.

"But why pick them from the same school? Surely it would be too easy to trace him. It might not be someone closely associated with the school; it could be someone who stands outside the gates and picks them that way. And Patrick went there years ago, but was only taken nine months ago. That doesn't fit," Brennan argued, her face still flushed and blood still pumping too rapidly as Angela's advice lurked in the back of her mind.

Booth shrugged, checking his rear view. "It might be someone associated with the school that still had contact with Patrick. We'll know more when the detectives down in California speak to his parents. I've let them know what questions we need answering. They'll call me back when they have spoken to the parents."

Silence fell again. Brennan struggled to stop her heart from pounding. "Booth," she began, her eyes on him, wanting to see his reaction to her statement. "We need to talk about…"

"Bones," his tone was cutting. "Now is not the time."

She fell back into her seat, eyes staring out of the windscreen without saying anything. It could wait. Maybe forever.

* * *

_Thank you to all those people who reviewed the last chapter - and to Claire for reviewing one of my poems on fictionpress._

_Eldred says hi, and would like to ask for people to review this chapter too, as he got very excited everytime a new email came through from botatfanfiction. He reminds people that all reviews cause him to do a little dance on top of Sarah's laptop and squeal in a very high pitched voice. (Including anonymous, smileys etc)_

_I would just like to point out that I am not insane. I just have a very fertile imagination._

_Sarah x_


	13. Chapter 13

**_Thank you for all the reviews. Eldred was most happy._**

**_The Buffy quote was "spank your inner moppet" from When She Was Bad, season 2, episode 1. It was said by Cordelia. I now need to get some sleep. Hopefully they'll be a load of reviews waiting for me in my inbox when I wake up..._

* * *

**

Chapter 13 – Balancing

The rain was transforming from a full storm into a refreshing trickle, the air beginning to heat up without the humidity, leaving the atmosphere dry and pleasant. Everything looked green and lush after the storms, wilted plants now standing tall after being given a good drink and the sky slowly returning to its pure blue state.

The school stood silently alone on the corner of a long road, its style imposing against the generally modern housing. It was three stories tall; the windows old fashioned and slim, looking dark as they reflected the light. The playground was empty, lessons having already begun and the quiet yard emitted an eerie echo of missing children's laughter.

Booth led the way quickly into the school, finding the door unlocked and unattended. He was aware that anyone could have entered and caused havoc, and wondered how to mention this to Mrs Dunn without her sending him a look that could kill. Bones followed him, the silence staying between them that had been continued from the car. He pushed thoughts of her to the other side of his mind, knowing that he needed to be one hundred percent focused on what was happening in the school.

He knocked on the door of the principal's office, waiting patiently for it to be opened. Bones stood beside him, hands in her pockets, a serious expression adorning her features. He ignored the feelings that her presence provoked in him, trying not to look at her, and knocked again, a little harder, on the oak door.

"Are you looking for me?" A voice from behind them asked.

He turned around and saw the principal, wearing a black pant suit with a low buttoned white shirt and high heels that he was surprised that he hadn't heard walk up behind them.

"Mrs Dunn. I wanted to ask you about a boy who used to go here, Patrick Kearney. His remains were found yesterday, a short way from where Thomas Dyer's were found," Booth watched as her face didn't react to the news. It stayed frozen, not a ripple of emotion flickering across it.

"I have only been principal here for two years. I didn't know of a boy with that name. Of course, there are members of staff here who would remember – what did you say his name was?" She responded coldly.

"Patrick Kearney. You see, Mrs. Dunn, I find your manner very strange and unsympathetic. We appear to have a child killer on our hands, who is targeting children from your school. When this information is released there are going to be numerous parents worried and concerned, possibly wishing to remove their children from here. Especially if they knew just how easy it was to enter the building," Booth threatened.

"We were able to just walk in here. There was no one at the entrance and the door was unlocked. I wouldn't want my child to be in a place that was so lacking in security," Bones interjected. The words 'my child' got caught in Booth's ears.

"I remember seeing an interview with you on television, Dr Brennan, and I thought you didn't want children," the head teacher passed Bones a mystified look, then moved her cold gaze back to Booth.

"What I once said is irrelevant," he heard Bones' tone become aggravated. He didn't interrupt. He thought that she was probably the best one to get a reaction from the principal. "The point is that your school, of which you are in charge, is doing absolutely nothing to protect the safety of the children entrusted to your care. Aside from you lack of security you have persistently been unhelpful in this investigation. I doubt the parents would be too impressed with that. And your coldness toward the children in your care makes me wonder exactly why you are doing this job," she practically spat at the other woman.

Booth gave his sarcastic laugh and shrugged. "She's right. Parents are getting worried about this place. We've had twenty four calls already this morning about how we are protecting the children here. Some parents were requesting an armed guard on the doors. And you don't even have them locked," he shook his head, enjoying the look of annoyance that was brewing on the principal's face. She refused to reply. He left the topic. "We need to get into the courtyard. There are several reasons that I want to see in there, Mrs. Dunn, and your reticence to let me in has made me a little curious," Booth smiled, his voice at its most unpleasantly polite.

"Agent Booth. Let me assure you that no one has been in that courtyard for several years. The lock has rusted over, as one of your colleagues has verified," she said, lines showing on apparently smooth skin as her temper began to crack.

"Why have you stopped volunteers from helping to tidy that area?" Bones asked. "It would be a wonderful area for science experiments to take place. I don't understand why leave it such a mess, and possibly dangerous if a child happened to get in there. It's unsightly."

"It is one of the reasons I am hoping we will be granted enough money to completely rebuild the school. Like you said, Dr Brennan, the area is dangerous, and unsightly. There are also other aspects of the building that are not as a school should be in the twenty first century. This will hopefully be rectified with a new build. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an important phone call to make. A locksmith is on his way this afternoon to open the door," she turned her back to them and went to her office.

"Mrs Dunn," Booth called back sweetly. "I'll be going in your courtyard a lot sooner than this afternoon."

"You do, Agent Booth, and I'll see to it that you are on desk duties for the rest of your career," she said back, voice level and unmoving.

Booth nodded. "And I'm sure that the governors of the school will be very interested to know exactly how this establishment is being run, particularly when they get to speak to your accountant, Mrs Dunn." The door was slammed. Bones looked at him, eyes questioning.

"You're accusing her of ciphering money from the school?" She said. "Booth, she could get you in serious trouble for that accusation."

"She could, if it wasn't true. Look at the state of this place, Bones, and think of the area and the wealth of the parents. I heard Cullen say that the school had had a big donation from one of the local businesses. That money has never been used. I've asked one of the accounts specialists to have a look into what's been going on here," Booth explained as they began to walk around the courtyard, looking at it through large, old windows. The lock had been rusted, and obviously unopened for some time.

Booth stopped still and stared. He was aware of Bones watching him until she realised what had caught his attention. The window that he was looking at wasn't locked and it was large enough for Booth to fit through without having to squeeze.

Bones slipped in front of him and easily flicked the catch and pushed up the window. He noticed that the windowsill outside had been recently rubbed down, obliterating any fingerprints, but also proving that someone had been in the courtyard in the last day or so.

Booth lifted his leg and strode over the sill and stepped into the courtyard. He turned round and offered a hand to Bones, who surprisingly took it without hesitation or argument. He caught her eyes as she came through and resisted the temptation to kiss her, although he badly wanted to.

Keeping hold of her hand he headed straight through bushes and wildflowers, passed the greenhouse which was cleared of all its glass, toward a dilapidated shed that Booth guessed would have once been used for groups of children to pot seedlings and house plants during the winter.

The front of the shed was hidden by a large buddleia, purple cones of flowers pointing off the woody shrub. The path to the shed had become overgrown with weeds, and looking down briefly he saw that it had become home to several types of insects and would probably be like a day in heaven for Hodgins. "Look," he pointed out a large beetle to Bones. "Hodgins could have a mate for Engelbert." He saw Bones give him a soft smile.

"He says sex stops them from performing well on race days," Brennan retorted, her eyes on the insect.

"Not like me then," Booth said, a smug grin fixing itself on his face. "Sex helps me perform." Bones ignored him.

Booth inspected the shed closely. It had a new lock, still shining silver and free of the ivy that had grown around the door. The window had been boarded up, so Booth was unable to see inside. He turned to Bones. "I'm going in," he said. He felt an arm on his shoulder.

"Remember what happened the last time you kicked down one of those? Find the janitor and get a screwdriver. That door will be simple to take off. Do you think the cleaning fluid might be in there?" She asked.

"I just know that we'll find something important inside it. You go find Phil and I'll wait here," he felt reluctant to leave the shed unattended. He had already seen several pairs of eyes looking at him through the windows, the bright sun half hiding facing behind its reflected glare, but he didn't want to give an opportunity for anyone to come in and remove anything from the shed.

He watched as Bones made her way down the path, feet nimbly avoiding weeds that were waiting to trip any unsuspecting person. She had wanted to talk and he had blown her off. He didn't want to hear her say that she didn't want a relationship with him, but he knew that at some point he was going to have to prepare himself to hear those words.

He regained a grasp on his thoughts and returned them to the shed, pacing round it, tapping on the wood, and at one point giving it a little kick. Bones speeded back into the courtyard, the janitor with her, carrying a toolbox. Phil nodded at Booth, kneeling down by the door and began to unscrew the lock.

"This is new," he said, removing it swiftly. "I didn't think anyone had been in here for years, but for all I know the queen could be using it hold some secret rendezvous."

Booth nearly chocked at the thought. "I doubt she would have attempted to get through the window," he replied back. Phil moved away from the door. Booth pushed the bolt and the door swung open.

The shed was small, dark, and cramped; the only light was what was now streaming through the door, bits of dust and pollen catching in the light. An old tin bath sat at one end of the small space, old bags of compost that had now dried up in the sweltering heat of the shed lined the walls. Near the bath were empty plastic eight litre bottles of something that looked like industrial cleaning solution. Insects crawled over the floor, some scurrying once they had seen the light.

In the middle of the floor lay a small boy, feet and arms bound; a gag over his mouth. His skin was dirty, flecks of soil sticking to it and discolouring his short blonde hair. He was dressed in an old school shirt, two buttons missing. The smell around him was of stale urine, but that would not have acted as a deterrent to any sane person.

Booth and Bones immediately entered the shed, Brennan collapsing to the boy's side and pressing two fingers onto the side of his neck, checking for a pulse.

She nodded at Booth. "He's alive. His pulse is weak, but its there."

Booth pulled his cell from his pocket and began to dial for an ambulance. They had found David Matthieson.

-------------------------------

The next few minutes were a blur of people. Brennan stayed by the boy who seemed so small, watching him breathe with difficulty. She imagined he had been given a tranquilizer; none of the compound 1080 looked to have been administered as there was no sign of vomit, and no other physical symptoms were present.

Booth had gone to stand at the window entrance to the courtyard, waiting for his colleagues to appear, cordoning off the school. She imagined the children would be sent home, the staff kept there and questioned once more. It seemed apparent that the killer had worked there, or had at least had something close to do with the school. He would have had to have had keys to access the building and been familiar with the alarm system.

The boy beside her began to stir, his lips twitching and a hand moving slightly, before returning to the almost lifeless inertness. Brennan gently touched his forehead, finding him to be hot and clammy. She wondered how long he had been in this shed. There had been signs that he had been held in the hut by the river – it had been David's t-shirt that they had found. She thought he had probably been here for around thirty six hours, long enough to have come round from whatever he had been previously drugged with to experience the grim surroundings, the insects scuttling across the soiled floor, to have seen the tin bath and to have smelt the stench of decomposing flesh that was now apparent through the strong odour of cleaning fluid.

A paramedic appeared and went immediately to David. He nodded at Brennan in a silent greeting. "We're taking him to West General. I imagine we'll see you there shortly."

She nodded her affirmation. "Did my partner – Agent Booth - give you his card?" She asked. "Please let us know if there's any change in his condition." The paramedic nodded.

Brennan watched as his colleague came and helped him to stretcher out the child. She looked out of the shed and saw faces at the windows, watching the macabre show that was now taking place. She was surprised that the teachers had allowed the children to view this, but she supposed they had seen worse things on television.

She moved back into the shed, and to the bath. Putting on latex gloves that had been in the kit that had accompanied her, she began to lift the empty plastic bottles that were next to it. It had been this bath that had been used to wash the bodies in the bleach. She put her head to see if a drain had been made, and noticed that a pipe had been installed from the plug hole through the wooded floor and under the shed. That would mean that the plant life and insect colonies underneath the shed should have been affected by the cleaning fluid.

A few cups stood on the floor next to where the boy had been, plastic ones, the type that was next to water dispensers. It was likely that David had been given small drinks of water that contained dopamine, or something of that nature.

But they had found him, alive. He would be returned to his parents, although bearing psychological scars that he might never recover from. What tortures he had been put through they didn't yet know, she just hoped that he had been unconscious for most of the time since his kidnapping and would have very little memory of what had happened in the duration of his imprisonment, even if it meant they were no closer to identifying the perpetrator.

Booth appeared in the doorway, his large build blocking the light. She looked at him, her attention automatically caught. "Forensics are here," he told her. "The children are being sent home once their parents have been contacted. The staff are staying here. Cullen's setting up interview rooms in some of the classrooms."

"I want to go to the hospital and check on David," she said.

Booth nodded. "As they were stretchering him out he began to regain consciousness. He's the first person we need to speak to. Cullen will start off here, but I've asked him to save a few people for me. It'll do them good to sweat it out." He moved close to her and she was aware of the heat of his presence; it felt like some intoxicating liquor that she wasn't entirely sure of ho w it would affect her.

Brennan nodded, agreeing wth what he had said. He took hold of her hand, surprising her. She flinched with the shock and he let go. "You startled me," she told him, reaching for him determinedly. He gave her the lopsided smile that reverberated through her, and pulled her into his chest, putting an arm around her. She felt him kiss the top of her head, and whatever voices shouted out to her to stop being so defenselessly female she ignored and enjoyed the fact that she could hear his heart pounding away and smell the scent that was his own.

His grip on her relaxed and she realised that someone was at the door as the light was blocked. "Booth?" She recognised the voice immediately.

"It's been a stressful few days, sir," Booth's voice vibrated through his chest and through her body. She pulled herself together and eased out of his grasp.

"We're just thankful to have found David," she said, wondering why her tone sounded guilty.

Cullen's eyes widened. "I'm going to start with interviewing some of the teachers. If you want to be included in interviewing Mr Phillips, Mrs Dunn, Mrs Sanderson and Mr Wheeler then I suggest you hurry along to the hospital."

Booth nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. Brennan felt a smile forming and tried her best to conceal it, feeling rather like a naughty teenager who had been caught behind the bike sheds when she should have been in class. Cullen eyed them both sternly, and left.

She looked at Booth, trying to ignore the black fear that clouded her. There were so many arguments why these feelings shouldn't be allowed to grow, but so many reasons why she should let them take a hold of her, and feel something that she knew she yearned for.

Whenever he had told her in the past to not talk to suspects, or people in general, hinting that her people skills were not up to the job she had felt hurt. That level of hurt had grown as she had tried to research and learn how to deal with people, trying her best to fit in a little more. Previously she had only dealt with dead bodies and scientists whose interpersonal skills were as bad as her own. She had tried to become better at it, trying to be more understanding and less analytical and clinical, seeking his praise. And as she had learned more about the land of the living, as Angela had put it, she had wanted to become more involved, liking the fact that she did have a kind of family, and people she needed and was needed by, after all this time of hiding in her shell.

And she knew she was wanting to be needed by him, and that feeling, that desire, was winning the battle.

"Come on," he whispered, taking hold of her hand again. She let him, although she knew she had stiffened with the touch. He kept her hand in his while they were hidden by the overgrown bushes and wild weeds, only letting go when they were in view of other people.

---------------------------------

Booth felt a sense of calm quilting him as he weaved his way through the traffic toward the hospital. The tension between him and Bones had settled; the fact that they had found David alive and hopefully as well as he could be had ironed out some of the stress marks on him. He had been half amazed when she had kept hold of his hand. He knew that it had been a big thing for her to do.

His eyes settled on her as they stopped at traffic lights.

"Booth," she said softly. "Why are you looking at me?"

"You have something in your hair," he lied. He lifted a hand and brushed his finger through her hair, removing an imaginary piece of something. "It's gone now," he told her, wondering if he should imagine another imaginary piece of fluff. The car behind him beeped impatiently and he realised that the lights were now on green. Looking in the direction he was meant o be driving he put his foot down and sped over to the hospital.

Cullen had phoned and told him that David was being treated in a private room in the children's wing. Booth knew where to go as Parker had been there once after developing an allergic reaction to seafood. He had been with Rebecca at the time, which had been to Booth's advantage. Had the discovery been made when he had been in Booth's charge then he doubted that he would have seen Parker again until he had been old enough to make the arrangements himself.

The rain had stopped and the sun was doing its best to soak up any remaining puddles that were still on the ground. It was a day that would have perfect to spend at a beach, the dry heat comfortable and almost seductive after the rain and humidity that had enveloped the area.

The hospital was cool and air conditioned, almost a little too chilly. He could see Bones rub her arms, trying to create some warmth and he just about managed to not put his arm round her, sharing his body heat with her.

David's room was the end one on a long corridor. They walked past two lines full of sick kids, each child making him pray that Parker stayed healthy. He could see Bones assess each one as she walked past, a little pain showing in her face.

"How do their parents manage?" She asked him in an undertone.

"They have to. They have to hold it together because of the kid," he told her simply.

"I don't know if I could," she admitted. He wondered what thoughts had been going through her head recently to bring about talk of coping as a parent. He had never expected to her anything to do with coping with kids erupt out of Bones' mouth. He realised the impact of the kiss and found he had a hint at why she was finding it all so difficult.

"You'd manage. You'd have the child's father to lean on. But there's nothing to say that any child you'd have would get sick," they stopped outside David's door. Booth could see both of his parents sat beside him. His mom had obviously been crying. He looked at Bones.

"I guess it's a risk," she said, looking to Booth to open the door. He couldn't answer of divulge into this conversation any more, but he stored it in his head for future discussion.

David was propped up in bed, his face had regained colour although he looked thin and small. "Hi, David," he said quietly, sitting at the end of the bed. "We need to have a few quick words with you just to find out if you can tell us who did all this to you, if that's alright with your mom and dad?" He looked to the parents who both nodded.

"I can't remember anything," David said in a tiny voice. "I was playing soccer and someone grabbed me when I went to get the ball from a bush. I remember waking up a bit and not knowing where I was, but that was it." He explained.

"You didn't see the man who got you?" Booth said. "It doesn't matter if you didn't, there will be plenty of other ways to find out who it was."

David nodded.

"Do you know who drew the picture of the man with no mouth?" Bones asked.

David shrugged, looking a little paler. "Four of us got them in our desks. Me, Jacob, Neil and Seth. We didn't know who'd done them, but they were good so we kept them. I though my parents would think it weird so I hid it"

Booth nodded. "Did you hear the voice of the man who had taken you?"

David shook his head. "He never said anything. Mom, can you bring my PSP in tomorrow?"

Booth realised the conversation had come to an end. He didn't want to press any further as he didn't want to traumatise the boy any more than he had been already, and it was good that he had been oblivious to what had happened. He looked at Bones, she smiled slightly and stood up off the seat where she'd perched.

"Mr, Mrs Matthieson, if David does remember anything, can you please let us know?" He asked.

Mr Matthieson stood up and nodded his head. "Of course. And thank you, Agent Booth, for finding him," he said, giving Booth such a look of gratitude that Booth almost went red.

"That's my job," he replied. He saluted the young boy in the bed and walked outside to where Bones had stood.

"That's probably for the best – that he doesn't remember," she said.

He looked at her, the way her body curved and imagined what it would be like to have her against him every night. "I agree. Still want to talk?" He asked.

She nodded.

---------------------------------

Agent Cullen had spent more years than he cared to count serving his country in the FBI. His levels of observation were still excellent and it had not gone unnoticed by him that Agent Booth and the anthropologist had exited the courtyard hand in hand.

He took his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled to find a number he rarely dialled.

"Dr Goodman," the voice on the other end of the line responded.

"I'll wager thirty bucks there are by Friday," Cullen said, not exchanging pleasantries.

"By Saturday," Goodman replied.

"Who will judge?"

"I am sure Miss Montenegro will provide some useful information," Goodman said in his usual accent.

"Done."

* * *

_This chapter is not my best - but hey, its up. Looks like they're off to talk. You know what you need to do if you want to find out what happens - and that includes lurkers! I accept anoymous reviews, just hit Go!_

_weiver_

Sarah x (& Eldred)


	14. Chapter 14

**Apologies for not having a new chapter up yesterday. I was dragged for a huge walk after which I was only capable of staring inanely at the TV and admiring Danny Messer.**

**This is also a shorter chapter than normal, but came to a natural ending. The next one will be inevitably longer, once Eldred's finished stuffing himself with easter eggs!**

**Thank you for all the reviews, some made me smile, some made me laugh and other I just found plain odd. All are loved, and all made Eldred do his little funny dance!**

**Thanks to Ash for reviewing some of my work on fictionpress!**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

Chapter 14 – Food

Wong Foo's was the same as normal. Sid stood at the bar polishing glasses, giving them a slight nod as they entered. In one corner a group of people wearing suits were discussing someone who worked with them in their office, and one man was attempting to do an impersonation that was causing the rest of colleagues to hoot with laughter. A few other people were sat at tables, either on their own or in couples, quietly eating whatever food Sid had had made for them.

Brennan followed Booth to their usual table at the back of the room. It seemed empty without Angela, Hodgins and Zack, but that emptiness soon gave way to feelings of slight nerves and an intimacy that she was unfamiliar with.

"You letting Sid pick?" Booth asked, referring to choice of food.

"Is there any other way?" She replied, not even bothering to look at the menu. Sid glided over and gave the both a questioning look.

"You know, Sid, the usual," Booth waved his hand and Sid nodded.

Brennan looked at her fingers, Booth admired the beer mat. Neither spoke, and the silence was filled with anticipation of the words that would have to happen at some point, but were taking great pains in coming.

"Weather's better," Booth said inanely, looking up at her for the first time since they had sat down.

She returned his look, the rabble of butterflies in her stomach fluttering around rapidly. "It is. It's not so humid, either," she said. He held her eyes, not letting her look away. "Who do you think took David then?" She asked, hating the note of apprehension in her voice.

"I don't want to talk about the case, Bones," he replied, quietly assertive.

She nodded. Sid stepped over and put down their drinks, providing them with 'the usual'. Brennan gulped a little of hers, feeling the soft burning of alcohol helping to dispel the butterflies. Booth let his alone, intently watching her.

"Why did you run from me this morning?" He demanded.

"I didn't," she argued back.

"Bullshit!" She wished Angela was there to mediate. Booth sighed. "I know you don't like talking about how you feel, Bones, but you're going to have to try. I need to know one way or the other if there's any point me having feelings for you, or if I need to get over them." He laid his cards on the table. She felt as if she was soaring once her brain had comprehended his words. Booth had feelings for her, and understood enough to know that the feelings he was referring to weren't ones of annoyance or dislike but the opposite instead. She knew she was smiling.

"I'm thinking that because you're smiling you don't find the idea totally repulsive?" Booth leaned a little closer to her over the table.

She shook her head. At least she was still capable of gestures even if she couldn't actually force out any words.

"Bones, you need to talk to me," Booth's fingers reached out and took her own.

"I don't know how to have conversations like this," she confessed.

"I know," Booth withdrew his hands. Instinctively, she reached toward him, wanting to grab back his hands, seeking the feel of his skin to reassure her that she wasn't alone in this. She felt vulnerable, a feeling she hadn't experienced for some years, since her parents had gone missing. Although this was a different type of vulnerability, it could hold a different type of hurt. He pushed his fingers back to hers and let them entwine. "I'll try to help you make sense of it, Bones," he murmured. "You seemed to be doing just fine with your date when I found you on Friday night. Just pretend I'm him."

She shook her head. "That was easy. That was just going to be a recreational thing," she told him.

"And I'm not?" She knew he was using his best interviewing techniques on her, using negative answers to draw out the positives ones. She felt a little settled with this process; he wasn't demanding great declarations of love, just narrowing down what she did want from him.

"No," she answered.

"Is it because you'd have to work with me afterwards that I couldn't just be a recreational thing?" He stroked her thumbs between his thumb and finger, sending waves of electricity through her body.

She shook her head. "I continued to work with Michael after we had…"

"I don't need the details of what happened with you and Michael," Booth interrupted. She regarded the expression on his face as he said Michael's name.

"Are you jealous, Booth?" She asked, wondering if she was reading him correctly.

He looked away, a wry smile on his lips. Looking back at her he laughed. "Yeah, I was jealous," he admitted, then smiled silently at her for a few seconds. "Why couldn't I just be a recreational thing then, Bones?"

"Is that what you want to be?" She asked him. Was that it? Was that all he wanted? Worry blew through her like an artic wind.

He shook his head and she found herself warming again, nerves settling. "No. I couldn't handle that. I want something more than just sex, Bones."

She nodded, feeling him grip her hands a little tighter, then lift them to his lips and kiss them gently.

"I do too," she told him, noticing how his eyes lit up at her words. She was surprised that she had managed to say them.

"Then how are we going to go about this?" He asked, putting her hands back down on the table, but still keeping hold of them. "Without you running away from me every time you see me?"

"I'm sorry about that, Booth," she said. "I've never planned for something like this to happen and…" she lost the words.

"I understand. But if you decide you don't want this, Bones, then you might end up regretting it. I haven't had this before," his voice was low and soft and filled with emotion. She understood what he was trying to tell her.

"What about Rebecca?" She poked.

"Not with Rebecca. She's Parker's mom, but that's how I see her. That was all she was ever going to be," he replied.

"What about Parker?" She said, a wave of panic washing over her and then subsiding.

"He likes you. Don't look so worried, you'll find that as you spend more time with him – if you want to – then you'll find it comes naturally," he reassured.

She nodded, remembering how she had felt the last time she had thought about Booth's qualities as a father, and this time those sensations came back ten fold. Her body liked him, quite clearly they were a good match, and she could half begin to accept that now the panic was lessening. "I'm scared, Booth," she confessed, keeping her voice steady and strong. "I'm scared that you might disappear and I'll have to learn to cope on my own again." It felt better now she had said it.

"You know my job, I can't promise that nothing will happen to me," he said honestly. "But if it did, you're not a teenaged girl anymore. You have friends who are like your family. You wouldn't be left on your own. And I can promise that I won't let anything happen to me that I can stop."

"I know," a little piece of the worry fell away. She was surprised at how easy this was becoming. She threw something at him that was tormenting her and he shot it down, obliterating her fears.

"You might find that you can't stand being with me like that. That I really am far too annoying," he smiled. She laughed, seeing relief on his face at the sound.

"I like you being annoying," she said, her mouth twisting into a smile, her eyes starting to glow flirtatiously.

"Good," Booth nodded. "'Cause you seem to bring out that streak in me."

She loosened one of her hands and batted him lightly on the shoulder. He feigned mock pain and then pointed two fingers at her, leaning closely into her as she had seen him do when he was interrogating a suspect.

"Do that again, Bones, and I be making you call out in pain. I have my ways," he threatened.

She moved her head closer to his, trying not to laugh. Her forehead almost touched his and she could feel his warm breath on her face. "And I have ways of bringing men to their knees."

"Looking forward to it," he murmured. She knew he was going to kiss her. She didn't move away. His lips were gentle, and the kiss was fleetingly full of promises, leaving her wanting more.

-------------------------------------

The fact that her eyes were shining Booth knew was a good sign. He could tell that a little of the wall she had encased herself in had come down, crumbled slightly, enough for him to be able ease into her space and help her chip away at the bricks. He knew that the physical side to their relationship would come easy. She didn't associate sex with love like a lot of women did; he knew that she had had relationships in the past for as she put it – recreational purposes. Yet as they were both now sure, this was more than just recreational fun, and he braced himself for any physical intimacy to be followed by a period of him feeling rejected. Whether it would be worth it, time would tell, but he was willing to push aside any hurt that she might inadvertently cause and see how this went.

Parker was obviously something she was worried about. He knew she was aware that he was a big – the biggest – part of his life, so it would only be natural for her to be concerned about him, particularly as she found it difficult to deal with children – but she hadn't had any experience of them, and they were unpredictable. It was almost impossible to learn any thing about them from only reading a book.

When Rebecca had been pregnant he had read every possible tome available on child rearing, dealing with children, he had even searched the net for instructions on how to change a diaper, knowing that Rebecca would not help him in the slightest. Some how he had managed, everything he had read falling out of his mind the moment he had first held his son in his arms. But he had learnt, and he was sure that if Bones spent a little time with Parker, or another child, she would learn too, forgetting her awkwardness and embarrassment at not knowing what to do. After all, she managed to deal with Hodgins and Zack, and they were big kids.

Sid arrived with their food. He had brought Booth noodles with peanuts and chicken, and Bones stir fried vegetables and mixed meat in a sauce that made Booth's mouth water.

"Thanks, Sid," he heard Bones say as Sid departed. His mouth was too full of food to respond.

He didn't want to push her. He knew that they were going to have to take things slowly else she would bolt like a horse with its tail on fire. He smiled at her between mouthfuls, not quite knowing what to say now.

"How long have you liked me for?" He heard her say, and felt shocked at the question. Her eyes were dancing and he knew that whatever he said next would be subjected to teasing.

"That's not a fair question," he ducked out of it.

"No, Booth, come on! That is a fair question. How long have you liked me for?"

He groaned, half pleased that she was finding her feet more in this new dimension they had created. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.

She cocked her head on one side and gave him a look that meant a certain death unless he gave her a better answer than that.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Tessa thought that I liked you before I did, but it's been a gradual thing," he explained, moving his chopsticks over to her and grabbing a piece of beef that was currently calling his name. "What about you?"

She shrugged, and he knew he wasn't going to be getting a straight answer out of her. "Your food's good," he told her, diving in for a bit of pork. She tapped his chopsticks with hers.

"I know, and I would like to eat most of it," she said, keeping her eyes focused on her plate. "Booth, do you want more children?"

The question rocked him, and he knew his eyes were now as wide as saucers. "I don't think we're quite up to that point in our relationship yet, Bones," he answered defensively.

She gave him a pleading look, her blue eyes now making contact with his. "Booth, answer me," she instructed.

"Okay. Yes, I do want more children. I like being a dad. I would like the opportunity to be a full time father," he felt his heart break at the realisation that he would never be that to Parker. It was something that hit him at least ten times a day, but it never hurt any less.

She nodded, returning to her lunch.

"Bones?" He tapped his plate with his chopsticks. "You're gonna have to follow up a little on this conversation."

"It… it was just something I wondered," she replied, quickly looking away.

"I know you don't want kids…" he began, putting his chopsticks down next to his plate.

"No, I don't know if I don't want kids," she interrupted, correcting him.

He sat back, a little stunned and even more puzzled. Was this why she had been freaked out? "It's your prerogative," he said, not daring to ask why she may be changing her mind.

She nodded. "I know." He picked up his chopsticks and continued to eat, glancing up from his plate at the woman sat facing him. It felt like many other lunch times; coming to Wong Foo's to discuss a case, or exchange banter, but now it had a little something extra thrown in.

Strangely, it didn't feel that different, just that a little of the chemistry between them had been altered. She was still his Bones, the woman he would die for to save her life, the woman he still got up everyday wanting to see, the woman he wanted to be with when he fell asleep at night, or even better in the early hours of the morning.

She caught his gaze. "Have I got sauce on my face?" She asked, wiping her lips on her napkin.

He laughed. She knew was unlike any other woman he had ever dated. Most would think that he was gazing at them to take in their beauty; she thought it was because she had food on her face. "No, Bones, you're clean."

"You have," she leaned forward and he frowned. Her hand snaked to the side of his mouth and rubbed at something at the corner. "Gone," she said. "That's what happens when you pinch my food," she rebuked.

He automatically went for a prawn that was lying at the top of her plate. She responded by grabbing some noodles from his.

"That's fine, Bones. I share my food willingly. Clearly you have issues with sharing," he said with a straight face.

"I don't have issues with sharing. I share a lot of things, like my books; how many books have a leant you? I even leant Hodgins my car once. I don't have a problem with sharing!" She responded, not taking the humour in his words.

He laughed, picking the last prawn from her plate with his chopsticks and moving it to her mouth.

"No, you have it!" She retorted. He pushed the prawn closer to her lips. She shut them firmly. He began to chuckle more, holding the prawn steadily, refusing to move it.

"Eat it, Bones," he said. She folded her arms, not responding as she knew it would give him the opportunity of pushing the food into her mouth.

He took the chopsticks away and ate the prawn. "You don't turn down good food," he muttered once it had gone to the ocean in his stomach.

"See, I do share," she told him.

"I know," he reached for a strip of pork on her plate, taking advantage that her arms were still folded.

Sid approached them, a smile beaming across his face. "I see you like the doctor's food better than your own, Agent Booth?" He asked, looking with some amusement at the scene in front of him.

"They were both very nice," Booth reassured. He caught Sid's glance and realisation shot through him. Sid had known he wouldn't have been able to resist what he had given Bones.

"Next time I'll make sure I give you what the lady has," Sid said, removing the two now empty plates.

Booth grinned. "Nah, that way was more fun," he looked at Bones, she was smiling, and the light that shone in her eyes he knew was for him.

---------------------------

Brennan stood up, stretching her legs. The lunch break had provided a nice sojourn away from the realities of the day and what was left of the case. Booth had gone to the bar to settle up with Sid, although she had almost won the argument about who was going to pay.

She watched him, listening to him laugh at something Sid had said, although she hadn't managed to hear exactly what. Just because she had feelings for him didn't mean that she wasn't in control over what would happen, it didn't take away her independence. She admired his broad shoulder and his side profile as he turned round, talking to Sid as he walked to the till. The feeling of desire she was familiar with, but the emotion that was holding hands with desire she wasn't.

She held up her chin as Booth turned around and came back to her, hands in pockets. Apprehension and worry were combined with an overwhelming desire to touch and be touched by this man. She moved her hands on to his arms as he drew close, and smiled as his hands came out of his pockets and grasped her waist.

He lowered his head and kissed her. Not a long, passionate, fall onto the nearest table and mate type of kiss, but a short promise of what was to come, if she let it.

"Come on, Bones," he said to her quietly, resuming his full height. "We've got a principal to annoy and a killer to catch."

She smiled as he opened the door for her, stepping outside into the pleasant heat.

* * *

Please review! Dialogue is not my strength, so I apologise if this is a little wooden. And Brennan is a demon to write when she's softening up! 

Sarah x


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Obviously it doesn't belong to me. Its all Fox's, Kathy Reichs. However I do claim ownership of the typos.

* * *

**

Chapter 15 – Biting

Brennan thought that she could probably have driven herself to Greenhold School blindfolded; they had been there that many times in recent days. The journey seemed to speed by, trees and houses disappearing into a blur of colour. They didn't say anything about what they had discussed in Wong Foo's; now wasn't the time. They had to prove to themselves and each other that they could still work together without letting feelings get in the way, although Brennan was sure that they'd have no problem with that.

She felt slightly more content, after the talk with Booth. The edges of what she had been undergoing after the kiss at her house had been softened, a little of the fear had been withdrawn, and when she glanced at the man beside her she felt a sudden rush; a combination of excitement, lust, fear and worry. She rationalised herself out of the worry and fear part, if only for a minute. Angela was right; Booth was right, this didn't happen very often.So far she had gone several years as an adult without this having ever happened before. But now it had, and she was either going to have to learn to deal, or dig her head back into the sand and remain lonely with her old bones.

The former choice seemed preferable. Booth seemed willing to give it a go, to take a chance on her, even if she lacked some of the attributes of other girlfriends he had had. That both scared her and made her feel like she was worth several million dollars at the same time. He would be with her in this every step of the way. He had never failed to protect her, he had never hurt her, and she trusted him, always, to do what was right, and to do what was right for her.

She watched his face as he pulled up outside the school, a mixture of frustration and determination clouding his features. He hadn't said yet who he thought it was who had taken David Matthieson and murdered the two other boys. She had refrained from making a judgement; there wasn't enough evidence to suggest a suspect although she imagined that any interviews they were about to conduct would throw a little light on the matter.

Booth kept his shades on, a fact that she found rather funny after making her way inside of the school.

"You don't need those on any more," she told him, pulling them gently off of his fade.

He scowled playfully. "They add to the air of mystery," he answered, giving her a grin, she smiled back, pursing her lips slightly, finding her body responding to his in the way she held herself, the mirroring of her body language to what he was doing. She could read her own signs well. She froze, and made herself stand straight, removing the smile and trying to look solemn once more.

Booth laughed. "It won't work, you know, Bones. People can read you like a book. You keep on sending me all these little flirtatious glances, and playing with your hair when you look at me. They're gonna guess!"

She pulled a face at him, ignoring his comments.

"And I rather suspect there's been a pool going on as to whether we would – you know – hook up," he said, giving her an annoying grin.

"Did everybody know about this before me?" She asked, feeling bemused.

Booth laughed. "I think people may have had an idea, and that idea grew," Booth replied, taking the glasses off her and putting them inside his jacket.

Brennan nodded. "I need to have a word with Angela," she noted. Booth grinned.

Cullen approached them; his face serious, and he handed a file to Booth. "Agent Seagrove asked me to pass on this. I suggest you keep it to yourself; this information could do a lot of damage."

Brennan watched as Booth started to look through the file, his eyes lighting up and nodding impressively. "He's done well to find out all of this in such a short time."

Cullen smiled. "I don't think she expected anyone to actually investigate her. Her tracks weren't very well covered."

Brennan assumed that they were referring to Alexandra Dunn.

"Can I bring this up with her when she's interviewed?" Booth shook the file, emphasizing what the 'this' was.

Cullen nodded. "Bring it up by all means, but it'll be one of the fraud specialists who continues with the investigation. There's enough evidence to arrest her."

Booth smiled like a child who had just been given his most desired Christmas present. "She doesn't know that we know any of this yet?" He asked.

"She's unaware, yes," Cullen looked at Brennan. "Is she going in the interviews with you?"

"She's my partner," Booth said, his expression changing. "Of course she is."

Cullen regarded them both. "Quite inseparable these days, aren't you, Agent Booth?"

Booth smiled sweetly. Brennan realised what Cullen was insinuating and wondered if he'd had a bet on when they would get together too. "We'll start with Mrs Sanderson," Booth announced. "I doubt she's anything to do with it, but she's worked here longer than anyone else. She may have her own suspicions."

"Are you sure it's someone from the school?" Brennan found herself interrupting.

Cullen sighed. "In ninety nine percent of murders the perpetrator is either family or someone close to the child. We need to eliminate the people here first before we start pulling people off the streets," he looked at Booth. "One other thing – there were no signs of David Matthieson being harmed in _any_ way, other than being drugged with dopamine."

"These killings weren't sexually motivated then," Booth said, looking thoughtful.

"It could be a woman," Brennan suggested.

Booth shrugged. "It could be. I have my ideas."

"Mrs Sanderson is in her classroom. She asked to be left in there so she could get some work done. I actually think that these teachers consider the real work to take place when their students aren't in, some of them actually seem grateful that we sent the kids home!" Cullen said, his nose turning up slightly at the word 'teachers'.

"We'll be with her then," Booth stopped mid-stride and turned to Cullen. "Where's her classroom support – Peter Wheeler?"

"He's in the staff room with some others of his colleagues who haven't been interviewed yet. The school has nearly forty staff so a few of them began a card game to pass the time," Cullen answered, walking in the direction of the principal's office.

Brennan followed Booth down the corridor to Valerie Sanderson's room. The teacher was sat at her desk, an old laptop in front of her. She smiled at them as they came into the room. "Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan. Thank you for finding David," she said, standing up and pointing to two chairs at a table she had pushed together.

"We need to ask you a few more questions," Booth began, taking the seat. Brennan stayed silent, watching the woman's movements as she sat down. She appeared calm and unbothered by the confrontation. Brennan doubted that she had anything to do with the boys' murders.

"Go ahead. I will do my best to tell you anything you need," she held her palms out in front of her.

"How long have you worked in this school, Mrs Sanderson?" Booth asked. Brennan sat back and let him take charge.

"Twenty-seven years at the end of this one," she answered. "I knew Patrick, although he wasn't in my class. He was an average boy, but very nice and likeable, like most children."

"All three children seem to have been average, Mrs Sanderson. Would you agree?" Booth asked.

The teacher nodded. "I would. None of them excelled academically. None were angels, although they didn't get into any trouble either. They were normal kids."

"Have any of your colleagues shown any particular interest in any of the children?" Booth fired. Brennan noticed that his manner was aggressive and shaking Mrs Sanderson off kilter slightly. She knew that the woman seemed fair and non judgemental. Booth was trying to pressure her into letting an opinion slip.

"No, no. They treat them all the same. There's no favouritism," she replied, becoming more flustered.

"What about after school?" Booth asked.

She shook her head. "There aren't many after school activities. It's one part of the school we don't excel at – the lack of extra-curricular clubs and societies."

"Doesn't your classroom support, Mr Wheeler, have a lot to do with extra-curricular sport?" Booth prodded.

"Yes, but, he's never shown any interest in the boys like that," she looked confused.

"Mrs Sanderson, it should relieve you to know that we believe that none of the boys were sexually molested," Booth told her. A look of relief crossed her face.

"Thank God they were spared that," she said.

"In your recollection, did Thomas and Patrick attend sports clubs as well as David?" Booth asked.

She looked thoughtful, then nodded emphatically. "They did. Patrick went to a fishing club that Peter held. Thomas was involved with soccer, like David. But you can't possibly suspect Peter of harming them. He just… wouldn't."

Booth stood up. "We have to examine all of these things. Did Mr Phillips have anything to do with the children?"

She shook her head. "He's usually here in the mornings, then lives the premises until just before home time when he returns and organises the cleaners and does any jobs. He knows the teachers and other staff well, but not the kids."

Booth nodded. "Thank you, Mrs Sanderson. You're free to go."

She smiled and stood up. "I'm going to stay around longer and get some more jobs done. Days like this are rare. When the kids aren't in I can get on top of paperwork and marking without being interrupted, and I love the silence of the school." She looked a little forlorn. "Although how much longer this will be a school for after today I don't know. I doubt a lot of parents will be willing to send their children back after what happened to David."

"I don't know, Mrs Sanderson, but I'm sure _you_ will be just fine," Booth reassured. She was a good woman, and wouldprobably be taken on anywhere.

They left the room, leaving Valerie to continue working on her computer. "She seemed nice," Brennan said, looking at her partner.

Booth nodded. "And she gave us the most useful piece of information yet," he said.

"About Mr Wheeler," Brennan confirmed. "You like him for this, don't you?"

"I have a feeling," Booth said. "I know we have no evidence, but something's just not sitting right."

Booth led the way to the janitor's office. A stench of cigarette smoke hung around outside the door, giving away the factthat Phil was in residence. Booth knocked heavily on the door and it was opened immediately.

"I wondered when you'd get to me," the booming voice said. He ushered them in and Brennan found herself sitting on the same seat as before. "I'm glad you found the kid. Now you need to get the bastard that did it," he muttered, dropping the cigarette into the dregs of a cup of coffee, the cigarette going out with a sizzle.

"We were wondering if you had any theories," Booth said. Brennan noticed how he sat back, relaxed, arms hanging back loosely.

"Well as much as I can't stand her, I doubt it's her ladyship. She's up to something, but she wouldn't knock off kids like that. You'll have your own ideas, Agent Booth, why would you be needing mine?" Phil asked, pulling another cigarette from the packet.

"Who's worked here as long as you, or nearly as long as?" Booth ignored his question.

"Val, Mary, Denise – they've all been here twenty years or more. After that it'll be Karen, Peter and Shelley. The rest are newcomers," he lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

"Do you think someone in the school could have done such a thing?" Booth asked.

Phil shrugged. "No, but I doubt that the colleagues of a lot of murderers would have said 'I always knew he was a bit dodgy' when they found out. It has to be somebody here, really."

"Who had access to the school beside you and Mrs Dunn?" Booth asked.

"No one should have, but there's nothing to say that they didn't take the spare keys and have them copied," Phil responded.

Booth nodded. "Did the school ever have a problem with vermin?"

Phil laughed. "Apart from that rat of a principal? Over thirty years back, yes."

"Have you any idea of what was used to control the problem?" Brennan broke her silence.

"It was before my time," he answered. "We keep stuff in now, but it's the recommended poison for use in schools. We have to be careful 'cause of health and safety."

"What happened to the old product you had in for that use?" Brennan asked.

Phil shrugged. "There's every chance it's been put in a cupboard somewhere. I don't claim to know every inch of this place, there's that many nooks and crannies. I keep everything I use in here."

"What about cleaning detergents. We found some in the shed where David was," Booth regained charge.

"I saw them when your forensics people took them out. They must have been taken from the stock I have here. I was around ten bottles short about nine months ago, but as I'd been off ill I put it down to the delivery not having been checked right," Phil said, dropping the cigarette butt into the same cup.

"Who would have checked the delivery if you weren't here?" Booth asked urgently.

Phil stood up and reached onto a shelf next to him, taking down a blue file. He opened it and flicked through pages. "It's this one. I circled the order but never chased it up. Never had time," he passed the open file to Booth.

Brennan looked over his shoulder and read the signature at the bottom. Peter Wheeler. Booth nodded and passed him back the file. Phil looked knowingly at him, turning around on his chair and facing his desk. "He's been a good man," he said, a little sadly. "Seemed to care a lot about the kids."

"It might not be him," Booth said, now standing, hands in pockets.

Phil gave a slight, ironic laugh. "It might be the tooth fairy."

Brennan followed Booth out of the door, feeling as though everything attached to her now smelt of smoke. "That's who you thought it was," she looked at Booth.

"He was my number one," Booth admitted. "Let's speak with the principal and let her know that she's out of job. Wheeler can sweat for a bit longer."

------------------------------------------

Alexandra Dunn was sitting in the small office generally used by her secretary, pouring over a printed document. Booth didn't bother knocking, he pushed the door open and walked in, and waving the file that Cullen had given him earlier, drawing her attention to it.

"Agent Booth, just because you have managed to hinder everyone's day and cease the learning of over three hundred children it does not mean that you can forgo common courtesy!" She snapped. Booth grinned. He was going to enjoy this very much.

"I have some questions about certain members of you staff, Mrs Dunn. Perhaps you can give me the courtesy of helping me out in this investigation, you know, rather than hindering it for a change?" He sat down, facing her, eyes glimmering dangerously. He did not like this woman; she was a nasty piece of work, over confident because of whom her husband was and although she could not be held responsible for the deaths of two boys and the kidnapping of another, she was certainly instrumental in not protecting the children in her care as well as she could.

"Go ahead and ask," she said, her eyes looking at the folder he was still holding prominently.

"Bones?" He looked at his partner. He considered Bones to be the best person to deal with this woman. He sat back and folded his arms, a smile grin crossing his face as he waited for battle to commence. Bones looked at his, uncertainty on her face. He nodded, prompting her to fire the first shot.

"How often do you look into the backgrounds of your staff, Mrs Dunn? Check with police that none of your staff have been in trouble, particularly for any offences against children?" Bones asked, her voice saying level with just a hint of an accusatory tone playing at the edges.

"It isn't a requirement that I do so, Dr Brennan. I have complete faith in my staff, their ability to do their jobs well, and that they are all of a high moral standard," she defended.

Bones nodded. "You're right – it isn't an obligation, but many principals, particularly after what happened in England with Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman, do carry out checks in order to be absolutely sure that the people they are employing are safe."

"Are you insinuating that I have not carried out my role properly, Dr Brennan? Have you discovered something about a member of my staff?" She asked in a cold voice. Booth cold see that she hands were fiddling constantly, picking at bits of skin next to her nails that were particularly short.

"I think you know whether you have fulfilled your job criteria, Mrs Dunn," Booth put the file down on the desk with a slight bang. Her eyes went to it. They had her. "How much do you get paid?"

"I don't see how that can pertain to your inquiry, Agent Booth," she said, nerves hovering at her voice.

"If I say it pertains to my inquiry, Mrs Dunn, then it pertains to my inquiry," he mocked.

"I think I need to call my husband," she said, nerves shaking her voice.

"You're not under arrest," Booth said, his fingers trailing over the blue file.

"Clearly there is something in that file that is making you smile so much, Agent Booth," she replied.

"Do you have a guilty conscience, Mrs Dunn?" Booth smirked.

"I have done nothing wrong. I have run this school to the best of my abilities. I have children who achieve, parents who are happy with what we do and a staff who are well motivated and good at their job," she defended.

"It's nothing to do with the actual running of the school, Mrs Dunn, not the day to day goings on. This file here just tells me a few things about the school's accounts. You see, we wondered why nothing had been done with the courtyard when it could have been used as a valuable teaching aid, especially as the school was given a donation some months back toward that very thing. It seems that close to a quarter a million dollars has been ciphered out of school funds over the past five years. You didn't bother to hide your tracks very well, Mrs Dunn, as a similar amount has gone through yours and your husband's bank accounts. You really are arrogant aren't you?" Booth laughed and slouched back in the chair, picking up a pen and tapping in rhythmically.

"I'm not saying any more. I thought you were here to investigate the murders and kidnapping of _children_, not look into innocent people's finances!" She yelled.

"Sometimes, Mrs Dunn, while looking under stones for one thing, we uncover a few other little details that give us an added bonus. I am placing you under arrest for fraud. If you care to remain seated two of my officers will escort you to your next establishment," he stood up, smiling. "Dr Brennan will keep you company until my colleagues return. I wouldn't try anything, Alexandra, she isn't as delicate as she looks," he received a glare from Bones which made him chuckle.

Booth closed the door behind him and saw the two men who would take charge of the case from here. He nodded at them; they had been waiting in the corridors after receiving instructions from Cullen to let Booth handle the initial conversation.

"I've left the handcuffs for you to put on," he told them as they walked past into he room.

"Hey, Booth," one of them stopped and turned round to him. "My bet's on Saturday – the ball. I could do with a few extra bucks." Booth moved a finger up to his neck and cut across. The officers laughed.

Bones appeared smiling victoriously once the two agents had gone into the room. "That was enjoyable," she said. Booth nodded and wondered if it was possible to pull her into his arms while no one was around or if she would cause a scene and try to put him in hospital. He pushed his hands further down into his pockets and grinned idiotically. She liked him. She was going to give it a go between them.

She gave him a look that suggested she was worried about his mental state and he ceased his grin. "Last one?" He asked, referring to Peter Wheeler. She nodded, and to his surprised linked a hand into his arm and gave it a squeeze. He smiled back her, the small touch sending a thrill through him and he knew that had anyone seen them then whoever had had Tuesday as a bet would have gotten themselves a windfall.

Peter Wheeler was the last person inside the staff room, playing a game of solitaire with a pack of cards. He was one of only three men who worked in the school, along with Phil the janitor and Dom Knight, a new teacher who had looked like a scared rabbit and had had absolutely nothing to do with either of the two boys who had been killed, having only started at the school after Elizabeth Merrell had left.

Wheeler looked anxiously at them as they went into the staff room, his face slightly reddened by the worry and the heat of the room that wasn't air conditioned. The day was hot, but witha crisp dry heat that was at the other end of the spectrum from the humidity they had been experiencing.

"Why have I been left till last?" He demanded, standing up and letting cards fall from his hands.

"That's just the way some things go," Booth answered, feeling his heart pound. This was him; he could sense it. He just had to find enough evidence to be able to arrest him and make the case stand up in court. "Take a seat, Mr Wheeler, we'll try to make this as brief as possible." He felt Bones tense up next to him and glancing at her saw that her eyes were wide and she was studying the man's every movement. He knew she had been reading up about people and body language in an attempt to improve her own people skills. She had improved - maybe he should tell her that – although he didn't want her to get any better, he liked her the way she was, and besides, he had to be better at something.

"We have a few questions we'd like to ask you," he sat down on an adjacent seat. Bones sat next to him, her body angled slightly forward.

"Go ahead, although I'm sure I can't tell you anything that you don't already know," Wheeler answered. His face had turned to stone now, his eyes shone defensively, and his body remained perfectly still. Booth had the feeling that should he ask Wheeler what colour the sky was he would be able to answer 'green' and make it sound convincing.

"What exactly happened to your wife and child?" Booth asked, preparing for the usual what relevance does this have question.

It didn't come. "My wife and son, Alan, were killed in a plane crash in Arizona fifteen years ago. I have never remarried. My life since then has been spent at his school and indulging in my hobbies," he answered. Booth wondered exactly what those hobbies were.

"Mrs Sanderson said that you were keen on fishing. Where do you like to fish?" Booth asked politely.

"Most rivers in the state. Anywhere that's good," he shrugged. "I don't have a favourite spot; I go where I fancy and where I hear the fish are biting."

"I assume then that you've fished on the Huyana River?" Booth prompted.

"Ah, yes. The river of falling rain," Wheeler answered. "I usually do well there, particularly just before a big storm. The fish sense it and come close to the surface."

The river of falling rain. Booth remembered Friday night when the rain was certainly falling in that river. He also knew that Wheeler was playing with them, like a magpie taunting a cat, letting the cat climb close to where it was sat before flying off to another branch at the other side of the tree. Wheeler knew that they suspected him; he also knew that they didn't have a thing on him. Wheeler was sitting there, as guilty as sin, knowing that they couldn't lay a finger on him.Yet. Booth wanted to have the deaths of his wife and son re-looked at. He wasn't convinced that they had even gotten on a plane to Arizona.

"You had a fishing club here at the school?" Brennan asked. Booth sat back a little and let her take over.

"Yes, and Patrick attended it when he was here. He was a good boy," Wheeler nodded, answering the next question before Booth could ask it.

"David and Thomas both attended your soccer club as well, didn't they, Mr Wheeler?" Booth said, not looking at the man, keeping his eyes out of the window.

"They did. David was especially good. He was very talented," Wheeler answered. "You have nothing on me, Agent Booth. Just because I like to fish and play soccer does not make me a killer." He stood up. Booth stood with him, towering over him slightly. He edged closer to the man, blocking his way to the door.

"I am sure we will be seeing you again soon," he said quietly into Wheeler's ear, feeling animosity build up inside of him. Wheeler smiled up at him.

"Don't count on it, Agent Booth," he grinned, showing perfectly straight, white teeth. He left the room slowly, dodging Booth,leaving the cards lying on the floor.

Bones stood beside him, looking at the door as it swung to and fro with the force of which Wheeler had opened it.

"He knows that you think it's him," she said. "There's so much circumstantial evidence that fits, but nothing exact that can implicate him without question."

"It is him, Bones. He's cold – he's done this before. Patrick wasn't the first and if we don't stop him now and get something on him, David Matthieson won't be the last," he said.

"What now?" Bones asked.

"I say we go and have a little chat with him at home," Booth answered. Bones nodded. He knew that they were both experiencing the same feeling; they were about to reach the summit of a mountain, with no idea of what they would find, or how they would get down.

* * *

_Thank you for the reviews, they really do help! The next four chapters are a mixture of fluff and plot, with a very angry Booth._

_Please review. Eldred has been a little too sick to dance due to all the chocolate. So instead he taps on his belly and sings old Nat King Cole songs._

_Remember - all types of reviews loved, cherished and sung over (by Eldred, I sound like a ship docking in the night). And if you're lurking, say hi - you can even review if you don't have an account!_

_weiver_

_Sarah x (and Eldred who has just unwrapped another easter egg!) _


	16. Chapter 16

_Have seriously developed a major obsession with Danny Messer and have become a lurker on the C2 forDanny/Lindsay shipper stories, mainly as no one's done a Danny/sarramaks one yet. Damn. I think I need some type of AA group for Danny Messer obsessives..._

_Eldred, on the other hand, has recovered from his chocolate eating spree and is now detoxing on home made fruit smoothies. He suffered withdrawals at first which made this chapter especially hard to write, but he's now doing fine, and even managed to find an extra twist for the tale after the second punnet of strawberries went in the blender._

_The usual disclaimer applies._

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 16 – The Darkest Hour**

By the time Booth had spoken to Cullen, and information had been passed around and shared, it was almost evening. The blue sky had dimmed and clouds had begun to cover the earth like a warm duvet, insulating the planet's inhabitants for the night. Red, yellow and orange rays of dying sunshine tinted the clouds, changing the sky into an artist's palette, one which had been smeared by a child's fingers, mixing up the colours into blurs, textured by the darkening clouds and accentuated by the dark building that's silhouetted on the horizon like giants watching over the city.

It was an evening which could be described as serene, an air of calm exuded from most people as they milled about on their way home from work, or from wherever they had been, anxious to enjoy the remains of the day with family and loved ones, or just to relax in their own company, shedding the events of the day like a disposable skin. Booth's jacket had not been put on that morning, now his tie was decorating the back seat of his SUV, his collar was undone and his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He was too warm, felt too clammy, and was too pissed off. His body radiated his emotions; tense, shoulder hunched and teeth clenched together. He was almost at the end of a long investigation; except the prize was just not quite in reach yet.

Sitting down, or rather pacing the room, with Cullen and Jake Laherne - another agent who was working in the case - had highlighted several more events that had made Peter Wheeler look even more the man they wanted. Laherne had looked into the deaths of his wife and son, and found that there had been no record of them ever actually having disappeared. Wheeler had been living in Louisiana fifteen years ago, then had abruptly left the house that he rented and abandoned his job and moved, taking the post at Greenhold. From what a neighbour in Louisiana had said his wife and son had gone with him, although there was no record of them ever having moved to Washington. The whole 'plane crash in Arizona' had just been a lie, one which seemed to have bought Wheeler sympathy, friends and a lack of questions.

Now those questions were being asked.

"The phone calls bother me," Cullen said, tapping a biro on his chin, leaving a little trace of black ink. "He's called us twice to let us know that a body has been left, so he's wanted us to chase him. Now he's teasing us and threatening to disappear."

"He likes being chased," Booth said from the point he had paced to. It's the whole thrill of the chase for him, or it is now. Maybe he's pissed that he's never gets thought as being intelligent and this is one way he can prove it."

He had heard Brennan sigh deeply, and had known that she would not be amused with all of the psycho babble that was being thrown around the room.

"We're still missing the clothes off both of his victims," she interrupted. Booth saw Cullen glare at her. "Can't we begin by searching his property for the belongings of Patrick and Thomas. If we can find something pertaining to them then at least we will be able to bring him in."

Booth pulled a face and nodded, his expression telling her that he agreed with what she had said. Cullen sighed. "That's going to have to be where we start," he gave his approval.

"What about a warrant?" Laherne asked.

"You try Judge Deakin," Cullen told him. "We have no clear evidence, he may be awkward so you'll have to use what charm you have." Laherne grinned. "Booth, you and the scientist lady can go and see what you can get out of Wheeler without a warrant, we can't waste time waiting. If he disappears I imagine he's got the intelligence to seeming fly of the face of the earth."

Booth nodded. "It will be my pleasure," he felt a searing stab of annoyance and anger shoot through him. He wanted this guy. He knew he was the type to have no regard for life, even the life of children. When he had interviewed him this afternoon he had seen a complete lack of concern in Wheeler's eyes; the only thing he had been worried about was the possibility of being caught; but with no certain time of death of the two boys and nothing concrete to link him, Wheeler had known he was pretty much safe.

Bones already had hold of her bag and was standing, waiting for him to go. He looked at her, aware that Cullen and Laherne were now poring over a few sheets of paper on Cullen's desk and wouldn't pick up on the stare he was now giving her. She looked tired and drawn, her face paler than normal and her eyes lacked their usual gleam. Hopefully, by the end of tomorrow all of this would be over and they would have caught the perpetrator and be able to resume normality, until the next time.

It would also give them a chance to decipher what had gone on between them. Bones' blue eyes met his and he wondered if her thoughts were the same as what he was having, or whether she had buried what feelings she had and was conveniently ignoring them.

He followed her outside; the dim light fading gracefully from the evening sky, leaving a warm blanket of air bathing them. He glanced up at the sky, the red on the clouds beginning to disappear and melt into the forthcoming darkness. It was peaceful and quiet, contrasting sharply with the rage within him. His pace quickened, wanting to get to his car and speed over to Peter Wheeler's house. He could hear Bones behind him, just about keeping up.

"Booth!" He heard her call. "You need to slow down."

He stopped and let her catch up although she was only a couple of footsteps behind him.

"You can't go in there in this mood, you'll end up getting yourself into trouble," she said, concern in her eyes. He knew she understood him well enough to sense the mood he was in.

"This guy's slippy, Bones. He's gonna get away," he responded. She caught hold of his shirt and tugged it toward her. His body responded to her close proximity and he felt heated up in a different way than before.

"Booth, there are ways to handle this, and you getting all firey and annoyed is not one of them. I know what he's done is despicable, but you cannot go barging into his house; any evidence you might find would be insubmissable in court. Let's just see if we can get inside his home, if he lets us, and see what's there until we get a warrant," she reasoned. Distracted by the slight touch of her fingers against his chest he nodded, and slowed his pace as they got to the car.

She jumped into the passenger seat, clutching onto the door handle, obviously worried that his state of mind might tell on his driving. He laughed wryly.

"Come on, Bones. You know well enough by now that I'm a safe driver," he said, a little concerned that he had made her worried so.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this pent up with aggression before," she replied, still clinging on.

Booth shrugged. "Maybe not," he admitted. "But my driving is always safe, so you can let go." She didn't and he tried his best to relax, but Wheeler's face kept encroaching into his mind, his weasel like looks imprinted on his brain along with his sneering, complacent look that Booth wanted to take a scrubbing brush to and rub away.

He knew it was Wheeler; he had had an inkling ever since he had seen the man take the roll call in Mrs Sanderson's classroom the first day they had been to the school. The man just had something about him that didn't sit right with Booth; his intuition was telling him that Wheeler was not a man to be trusted. He had obviously taken the cleaning fluid when he had accepted the delivery, and had gotten the poison from the old school stocks, as it looked as if Phil hadn't regulated what had been there and what hadn't.

Wheeler would also have had to have gotten in to the school. Clearly he had used the shed in the courtyard as a place to hide the children, as well as the hut by the river. Unfortunately, they hadn't lifted any prints that could tie Wheeler to the places; else the warrant would already be in his hand. Wheeler was smart, but even smart people made mistakes, and that was what Booth was hoping for; a mistake.

He pulled up at Wheeler's address, noticing that the lights were on. He was in. That was good. As of yet he hadn't disappeared, but why would he want to? He knew they had noting concrete on him, until they did he was better sitting tight and watching the melee around him, which, Booth knew, was exactly what he was enjoying. But something still wasn't sitting right. They had most of the pieces of the jigsaw, there were just a few crucial ones missing.

Bones followed him to the door, standing next to him as he knocked. He saw a face appear at the window and look out on them, a calm, composed expression sitting on his features. Booth resisted the temptation to put his fist through the window and smack him hard.

The door opened slightly and Wheeler looked round it, not opening it the full way.

"Good evening Agent Booth, Dr Brennan. What brings you here at this time? I would have thought you'd have been enjoying a nice dinner somewhere," Wheeler said in a tone that aggravated Booth further.

"We're wanting to get the person who murdered two boys and traumatised another before he can do it again," Booth growled.

"I doubt they were traumatised," Wheeler said calmly. "I heard that David was unconscious for most of it and didn't even remember who had taken him," his voice was calm and almost unexpressive.

"And how did you know that?" Booth asked, hands coming out of pockets and being held clenched by his sides.

"You know, the staff room conversations yesterday kind of stayed around what had happened," he shrugged with a smile.

"Any other conversations that might have given out information?" Booth pushed, irritation in his voice.

"No, I don't think so," Wheeler shook his head.

"May we come in?" Bones stepped forward a little.

"I don't think so," Wheeler answered, closer the door a little further.

"Something to hide?" Booth asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Not at all, Agent Booth. After all, if I really did have something to hide then you'd have a warrant," Wheeler smiled at him.

Booth felt more and more agitated. "We both know that you have something to do with this, Mr Wheeler, it's just a matter of time," he threatened.

"Maybe so, Agent Booth, but we'll have to wait until then," he looked at them both. "And you might not want to take too long over it as I don't know how long I'll be staying around for." He smiled at Bones and Booth wanted to knock his head off for even looking at her.

"Dr. Brennan, may I say just how much I adore your writing. Do you base Andrew Ryan on Agent Booth, or is he a figment of your imagination?" Wheeler asked, blankly ignoring Booth.

Booth looked at Bones. He had asked that question before. He wanted to see what answer she gave Wheeler and whether it would differ.

"All of the events and characters in my book are purely fictional," she said, confusion in her voice as to why he was asking questions like that when he was basically being told that he was the main suspect in a murder inquiry.

Wheeler nodded. "Next time you're here I'll ask you to sign the books I have of yours – and I have to say, Dr Brennan, your author photo does not do you justice!"

Booth felt his fist clench tighter and his face turn into a scowl. He noticed a quick glance from Bones, telling him that she was aware of what he was feeling.

"You know, Mr Wheeler, we could really do with a coffee, and I could sign those books for you now if you'd like," she tried to persuade him to let them in.

Wheeler laughed. "I'm really not that stupid. Good luck with your warrant," he closed the door with a bang and went to stand at the window, watching them, a small, curious smile on his face.

Booth turned round and walked to the car, every muscle tightened and on edge. He could feel Bones behind him, keeping a distance. When they were out of sight of Wheeler he turned and kicked an empty flattened can that had been left in the road and crushed by the cars.

He got into the car, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and dialling Cullen. No answer came, just a long ring that eventually went to his answer phone.

Bones sat beside him, watching him intently. "Cullen?" She asked.

Booth nodded, folding the phone, his frustration growing. "No answer. He must be with the judge. I'll go to him and see what what's going on. We need to get in that house."

Bones nodded. "Drop me off at the lab, there's a few things I want to look over again," she instructed. Booth nodded. Frustration and annoyance had robbed him of any ability to speak right now.

-------------------------------------

Booth dropped her at the lab, and she knew he was watching her back as she walked the short distance into the Jeffersonian from where he had pulled up. He worried her when he was like this. He seemed uncontrollable and a little untamed. A part of it she found herself attracted to, and she half wondered where that pent up energy would end up.

They were both strung out, a phrase she had heard Angela use, and now seemed to sum up how they felt. They had almost hit a brick wall. She went to the locker where Patrick's body was and pulled the tray out. Pulling on her lab coat and latex gloves she began to study the body, this time not looking so much at the bones but the other trace evidence that was attached to them. She knew that a thorough job had already been made, but even the most expert of professionals could miss something.

The silence of the lab focused her concentration. She leant close to the bones, eyeing each inch with intensity she had never used before. In a small patch of skin where the left acromioclavicular was she spotted a tiny fibre. Picking up a pair of tweezers, she plucked it from its sticky home and took it over to her microscope that Zack had thankfully forgotten to put away.

Placing it on a slide, she studied it, noticing it was pink, and, although this wasn't her expertise, it seemed to be wool. She removed the slide carefully, bagging it up and taking it with her to the telephone.

Dialling quickly, she was thankful to hear a familiar voice at the end of the line.

"Habalov," the calm voice answered and Brennan was thankful that she was not the only female scientist to be obsessed with her job.

"Raisa, it's Tempe," she said quickly. "I've a fibre that needs checking now. From what I can tell it's pink and possibly wool."

"I'll have Andrew come over for it. Is it to do with this missing boy case?" Raisa asked.

"Yes – how quick?"

"Give me ninety minutes," Raisa answered.

"Thank you," Booth said before replacing the receiver. She doubted that Peter Wheeler wore anything woollen and pink, and neither had the three boys who had been taken by him. It was possible that it was from an as yet undiscovered victim, or it had just been picked up randomly. This last part she had reservations about. The body had been washed in cleaning fluid for long enough and it had been strong enough to burn away at the skin. She hadn't heard yet, but she imagined that the remains of the two boys' skin would be found under the shed where David had been found, or even within the overgrown courtyard. The fibre was recent, and it had not come off the blankets that had been used to dump the bodies in.

A bell sounded, and she picked up the evidence bag and spotted Andrew hanging around at the entrance to the lab. He was Raisa's assistant in the same way Zack was hers and she had often found him lurking in her lab trying to catch Angela's attention. She handed it to him with a few words of thanks and made her way back top Patrick's remains. She studied it further, losing herself in scanning for further fibres.

She heard footsteps behind her, not trying to be silent or disguise themselves in any way. She recognised them immediately and span round, seeing Booth with a look in his face that said they hadn't received a warrant and he needed to explode before he imploded.

"If he gets away now," Booth began to splutter. "I am personally going to put the goddamn judge in the ground alongside the two boys!"

"You didn't get a warrant?" She asked the obvious.

Booth shook his head. He was clearly on fire with his temper fuelling it. He cursed and banged the worktop with his fist, then kicked the bin over. The crash it made echoed through the empty building.

"Booth!" She shouted at him as he hit the work top again. "Seeley!" His attention was elsewhere. He stomped to Hogkins' desk and picked up a thick text book, dropping it in the floor. She walked up to him, still saying his name. Not getting any response she grabbed his arms, gripping them so he couldn't move them. She felt the tension in his veins flood round his body. Her eyes moved up to his, meeting the brown irises. She felt him freeze as he became aware of her, and then his body relaxed slightly and she loosened her grip a little. His hands moved down to her waist and gripped her tightly, his lips plundering hers with a force she had never felt before, bruising them and making them swell, invading her mouth like it was now his territory, releasing his frustration and annoyance into a kiss that consumed her with fire.

He began to move her backwards until a glass pane was behind her, not breaking the kiss or the contact. The cold of the glass seeped through her shirt and chilled her into reality, and for a second she fought with him, pushing him away.

"Bones," he uttered, his eyes opening and looking into her hers. She saw animal lust in his eyes and wondered if it was reflected in her own. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and she began to let go, forgetting any doubts, or the repercussions that this would have. Blood pumped through the veins, the cool glass no longer felt compared with the burning heat that drowned her.

Booth's hands began to find bare skin, pulling her tucked in shirt from her trousers, his fingers pushing up her on skin. She pulled on the material of his, undoing it quickly, her own hands beginning a journey of discovery. She felt him take a sharp inhalation of air before his mouth reclaimed hers. She met his force with her own, catching him by surprise, and she turned him so their sides were now on the glass pane. One of his hands fought with the buttons on her trousers, eventually just pulling it off. His own were already undone, her fingers were nimble, as he was now discovering. She found ways to make him gasp and say her name, revelling in the power that she had over him, his anger now tamed. And then he took control, making her whimper and scream as he pleased, his hands and mouth seemingly knowing what to do without having practised on her before. She was an instrument that he had a natural talent for; that he could just pick up and play. No words were exchanged, but enough was said in the music that they composed in the night time in the empty, desolate lab.

Thankfully no one had planned to enter that part of the lab at that time of night; otherwise their eyes may have opened by the sight of Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth against a glass pane that separated part of the lab in a rather compromising position. Even more thankfully, Booth later had the sense to tidy Hodgins' desk, although the entomologist did wonder the next day why certain things were in the wrong place, but simply put it down to Goodman routing through his things in the hope of discovering enough evidence to fire him.

Once their ardour had been sated, Brennan found herself curled in the crook of Booth arm, heart still pounding slightly, listening to them sound of his rasping breath level out as his pulse rate settled.

He turned to her, and she felt his eyes pierce her skin such was the strength of his gaze. "Tempe," he whispered her first name, and a strange feeling went through her. "Tempe," he said her name again, without following it up.

"What is it, Booth?" She asked, knowing what the strange feeling was and beginning to panic. They were lying in Hodgins' floor, one of his coats pulled over them, shielding what had been complete abandonment. Her heart began to pound as she looked into Booth's eyes, understanding that the raw emotion that she saw in them was reflected in her own.

The blood that had pleasantly galloped through her veins earlier with the rush of lust and other previously unimaginable feelings now contained pure panic. She peeled Booth's arms from around her, standing up and gathering her clothes hurriedly, ignoring Booth's concerned comments, all sleepiness erased from him as he stood up and began to pull on underwear.

She refused to look at him, knowing that his eyes would be filled with concern and attachment that she did not want to see, and she could not possibly deal with them and did not want to comprehend the hurt that she knew would be there, pooling in those deep brown eyes, those deep brown eyes that she had just drowned in, barely managing to swim.

Lust had consumed her before, but never eaten her up and devoured her with such appetite, and now she knew her body and mind were craving a dessert, but one that she was forbidding herself to indulge in.

She kept her eyes away, and closed her ears, not even fastening the buttons on her shirt before running from the room. She heard Booth's feet behind her, the bare soles padding quickly along and she ran a little faster. She hoped he would understand; a one night affair she could handle, she could stand being loved like that any night, having her body blown away by him, but the aftermath had not been accounted for. She recalled the conversation they had had in Wong Foo's and felt tears pricking at he back of her eyes.

Defiantly, she held them back, the sound of bare feet on cold surface ceasing as she got toward the security at the front of the building. Ignoring the concerned looks the guards gave her she flung herself outside in the cool night air, feeling the gentle first drops of rain stroke her skin as tenderly as a lover's touch, cooling and forgiving after the rough passion of ownership and an intimacy that was all to unfamiliar to Temperance to be able to accept it with any casualness and logicality.

The rain began to fall steadily as she walked down the road to where she knew she could hail a cab, the water beginning to wet her hair and seep into her clothing, a pleasant coolness that brought her back to reality, leaving her with a feeling in the pit of her stomach that something precious had just been lost, given up to the night without a thought of how it would seem in the brilliant light of day.

* * *

Shock! Horror! Will Brennan realise that she can't possibly ignore these feelings she has for Booth? Who does the pink fibre belong to? Is the principal a murderer as well as being a fradulant, uncaring bitca (Buffy ref for all those who just think I can't spell)? Or is it someone else? Will they manage to arrest Wheeler? And will Danny Messer materialise in my bedroom right now?

All (apart from the latter) will be revealed, if you review. (I'll post the next chapter any way - prob tomorrow)

Thank you to every one who does review, you guys are the best and I'm sorry I've not had chance to reply. As for the rest of you lurkers who keep wacking up my stats, do your bit too! It's all well and good reading but I'd like an opinion, pr a hello, or a smiley, or Danny Messer... sigh


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank to you Laura for beta - ing!

* * *

**

Chapter 17 – Catching Up

Booth thumped his fist against Hodgin's desk and pulled on his shoes, cursing the day and its events. His heart felt as if someone had dragged it out of his chest and stood on it repeatedly, crushing it into the ground. He suspected that this would be her reaction, and with hindsight, it probably hadn't been a good idea to let their passions get the better of them just yet.

But it had been so soothing and it had felt so good being in her arms and to be able to hold her against him, feeling her skin and finding out how she moved and what it was like to make her call his name.

And now she had gone, ran away, unable to deal with whatever feeling she had for him and about their situation. He tried not to lose heart and to have a little faith in her, and in him. He straightened up Hodgin's desk, recent memories exploding in his head, and began to walk quickly out of the lab. As he approached the exit a boy of about Zack's age came tumbling through, holding a file. He looked dishevelled, as if he had been sent there in a rush.

"I'm looking for Dr. Brennan," he gasped, slightly out of breath.

"She's gone. I'm Agent Booth, can I help?" He looked at the boy with some confusion. If he didn't know better he could have been Zack's brother.

"Yeah, Agent Booth – you're her partner, right?" Booth nodded. "Dr. Brennan sent this over to Dr. Habalov to analyse urgently. I think it pertains to the case that you and Dr. Brennan are on now, so I can give this to you." He handed the file to Booth.

Booth took it and began to look through the pages, none of them making much sense. The kid looked at him, seemingly knowing that he didn't understand what he was reading. "I can explain it," he stood up higher, looking at the file. "Basically Dr. Brennan found a pink fibre on the skeleton of… Patrick? Anyway, we've analysed it. It's a wool-cashmere mix in a colour known as rose blush pink. Dr. Habalov managed to narrow the colour down to one used this season by an outfitters called 'Rushes,' it was their own brand, and they used the material to make sweaters."

Booth closed the file and looked at the boy. "Wheeler had help," he sighed, tiredness washing over him. "Right kid, I'm going to take this file and you can run off to your boss, tell him thank you…"

"It's a her – Dr. Raisa Habalov," he corrected.

"Tell _her_ thank you," he emphasised the "her" raising eyebrows at the messenger. The boy nodded and began to walk off. Booth took a look at the file and racked his brains. Pink, woollen top. A memory pushed itself forward in his mind, a smiling face appearing there. He shook his head, doubting his own eyes, and then realisation smacked him round the face, and another piece of the jigsaw slot into place. A sinking feeling hit him, and he wondered just when his judgement and ability to read people had failed.

He checked his watch and decided that it wasn't too late to pay a visit to the owner of the pink top. He debated calling Bones, but decided to leave it. Booth knew he should have raced after her, but clearly she had wanted to be on her own, and he couldn't chase her every time. She had to sort out what she wanted, and maybe a little absence would make the heart grow fonder.

Booth called Cullen and filled him in on the new evidence letting him know his plans, and where he was off to next. He gave him the address, one he knew from memory, and requested that discreet back up be sent nearby so he could call on them when needed.

"You're bringing her in for questioning?" Cullen asked.

"Yeah, but I thought you could maybe talk to her while I pay another visit to Peter Wheeler," Booth suggested.

"Let's see how it goes first," Cullen answered flatly. "I'll try to get a warrant for the sweater."

Booth had headed off, driving quickly to his destination. He pulled up outside a long drive in a nicer area of town than where he or Bones lived and began to walk up the drive. Only one car sat there, a late 90's sedan, polished so that he was sure it could be used as a mirror.

He rapped hard on the door, hearing the faint sounds of the television through the door. His knock was answered quickly. The woman stood in front of him, wearing the pink sweater that he was sure would match the fibre Bones had found on the skeleton. She also wore a welcoming smile, completely unperturbed by his presence.

"Oh, is Doctor Brennan not with you?" she said. "I thought you were very much the partners-in-crime, or rather, crime solving," she chuckled.

"How long has Peter Wheeler been your classroom support?" he asked directly, in no mood to play games.

"Around four years now," Mrs. Sanderson replied. "I was hoping that you would have dropped him as a suspect by now. Peter would never do anything to harm a child."

Booth looked at her, knowing that she was telling a bare faced lie. "Mrs. Sanderson, you do have something that may help us with our inquiries," he changed the topic.

"And what's that, Agent Booth?" she asked, again with a smile.

"The sweater you have on now," he nodded at the item.

"I think you'll need a warrant to get that," she said, calmly and without flinching.

"There's one on its way," as he spoke he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up nearby. Another couple of seconds later equally familiar footsteps began to approach.

"The judge was in a good mood," Cullen said once he was level with Booth. "Good evening, Mrs. Sanderson," he nodded at the woman and handed Booth the warrant.

"Here you go, Mrs. Sanderson," Booth showed her the warrant. "Now we need that top, and it would be in your interest to take a trip with Agent Cullen here." The teacher looked aghast.

"Surely you don't believe that I had anything to do with this?" she said. Booth almost laughed.

"Innocent until proven guilty," Booth said, his lips in a wry smile. "How long have you and Mr. Wheeler been lovers for?" he asked.

Mrs. Sanderson's eyes opened wide. She shook her head, short, thick hair moving around. "We are purely colleagues," she defended. Cullen looked at Booth.

"I will let you know the outcome of this interview, Agent Booth," he said. "I imagine you will be looking for Mr. Wheeler now?"

Booth nodded. "You might want to get that squint friend of yours to help you," Cullen suggested, placing a hand on Mrs. Sanderson's back as she stepped out of the house, escorting her firmly to the car.

"Her head may not be in the right place right now," Booth murmured. A glare from Cullen told him that he had heard.

Booth checked that Mrs. Sanderson's house had been secured and left to get into his SUV, debating calling Bones. He decided against it, knowing that he needed to keep his mind on the case and not on what had just gone between them. There would be time enough for that later.

He put his foot down and drove to Wheeler's house. Abandoning his car across the road from it he ran to the front and began to knock heavily on the door. No one answered. A light streamed through the window, coming from what Booth figured was the kitchen. He pressed his face up to the window, thankful that the curtains were not yet drawn. The house seemed empty. He banged hard once more on the door, again to no avail. Booth looked through the window again and sharp eyes noticed that the back door was open. He dropped to his heels and began to run round the back of the house, climbing over a low side gate and around to the garden. The back door swung open. Booth put his head into the kitchen and began to shout Wheeler's name, but no reply came.

He cursed and entered, knowing he was probably breaking all kinds of rules by doing so. He pulled open drawers, finding nothing that was of any interest. He skirted through the living room, tidied immaculately with not a speck of dust to be seen. The stairs were at the front of the house, immediately after the front door. Booth raced up them, taking three at a time. He went into the master bedroom, surprised at an unmade bed. Unwashed clothes had been discarded, including some female items, a bra, panties and a skirt. He made a mental note that they could be used to confirm a relationship between Sanderson and Wheeler.

Booth found his way into a smaller box room, a table placed just under the window. He pulled open one of the desk drawers and found a pad of paper, plain white paper. He debated pulling it out and then thought of the evidence he might contaminate by doing so. He pulled his cell out of his pocket, and pressed speed dial two.

It rang for what seemed like an eternity, making Booth's blood boil further as he pictures all the things that could have happened to her by him not running after her. Eventually a tired voice answered.

"Booth?"

"Bones, I need you and your evidence kit at Wheeler's house now," he said softly, her voice causing his heart to flutter like a rabid butterfly and thoughts to weigh down his head with the possibilities of what had happened in the lab, and how much he wanted to have that time again and not let her go.

"I'm on my way," she answered, then hung up. He stood there, cell phone in one hand, his heart in the other, knowing that if she didn't want it, it was too late to put it back.

-----------------------

Brennan had found a cab easily and entered her home with an escaped tear trickling down her cheek, rubbing it away angrily and wishing that she could return to thirty minutes ago and fight to feeling of claustrophobia she was impinging on herself and stay with the man who had become her lover.

His scent was still on her, the cologne he wore was stuck to her clothes, her hair, her skin. He was everywhere. She felt a stabbing in her chest as she walked up the stairs to her room, peeling off the clothes and pulling on old, grey pajamas, not even bothering to wash her face or brush her teeth. She didn't care.

She wondered what he was thinking now, after she had left him, yet again. The house felt too silent, its wall closing in on her and she fought the urge to scream, her usual composure evaporating with the heat of her mood. He had felt so good against her, the way he had said her name, the way he had held her afterwards. It was more than just recreation; her body had felt that as well as her mind. He was for longer than just a short affair, and she knew it wouldn't be so bad, she knew it was what she wanted. So why was she running? Reaction? Because it was how she expected herself to react?

She began to drift into a dreamless sleep, her mind needing to calmly process all that had had happened. She was vaguely aware that she had not been there to receive Raisa's analysis, but she imagined it would have found its way to Booth's hands at some point.

A sound from downstairs wakened her. A disruption of the peace that she was experiencing torn by the incessant ringing of the piece of technology sent by the devil himself, had she believed in such a thing. She stumbled out of bed, managing to get downstairs to the phone before it stopped and looked at the caller ID.

His voice had been soft and warming, and she knew he was not mad at her for running; he was too understanding, and she didn't quite know how she deserved to have someone like him hanging around for her. She ended up terminating the call with an amount of resolve in her that she hadn't had before with regards to a relationship.

She dressed quickly, gathering her kit that she had begun to keep at home in case of events like this. She picked up the car keys from the side that Booth would say weren't securely hidden away, and went to her car, realizing that she had locked herself out once she had started the engine.

It was knowledge that would have normally flustered her slightly, and had her cursing her idiocy, but this time Booth had the spare, and she found that knowledge comforting and reassuring. She set off, trying to settle her thoughts on what she was about to find at Peter Wheeler's, and not on the man she knew she was in love with.

Booth was stood next to his SUV when she got there, a dark expression on his face. One hand was in his pocket, the other tapping against the car.

She nodded toward the house. "Has he agreed to let you in?" She asked, apprehension in her voice.

Booth shook his head and began to lead the way into the house. "He's taken off and left the back door open. I've had a look in and found a pad of paper that looks similar to the paper that was used to draw the mouthless man on. I haven't touched it – that's why I wanted you here. Oh, and Cullen's got Mrs. Sanderson in for questioning," he added at the end.

"Mrs. Sanderson?" Brennan frowned.

Booth nodded. "That fibre you found looked like it could have come from the sweater she was wearing today. Cullen got a warrant for the sweater and took her in with him. I figured that her and Wheeler were more involved than colleagues."

She nodded. They weren't they only ones who were now more involved than colleagues. "You think Valerie Sanderson assisted him with the murders?" she asked, half in disbelief. "Booth, she never came across as being…"

"A murderer?" his eyebrows shot up into his forehead. "No, she didn't, but that fibre is telling us otherwise." He pushed open the back door and went into the house, Brennan followed.

"The fibre could have been passed from whatever Wheeler was wearing," she defended the woman.

"Granted. But are you telling me that he was bumping these kids off and she didn't know a thing about it?" Booth asked, an argumentative tone in his voice.

"I don't know," Brennan held out her hands in a surrendering pose. "There have been other men whose wives didn't know about what they were doing. And Wheeler and Valerie weren't living together which would have made it easier for him." Booth began to it up the stairs, Brennan stayed close behind him, curiosity plaguing her.

They went into a room that was a small study. A drawer was open and she saw what Booth had already described. Pulling out latex gloves from her kit and an evidence bag she removed the pad of paper from the drawer. Flicking through the pages, many of which were loose, she found what Booth had hoped for. Pictures that were virtually identical to ones found in David and Thomas' rooms.

She looked at Booth, her blue eyes widening as she saw his expression, a combination of victory and anger.

"We've got him," he said, almost as a hiss.

"We didn't have permission to enter his house – will this evidence still be admissible?" Brennan asked.

"Bones, his door was wide open. For all we know he could have been laying here injured. We didn't need permission – what do you think I am? A vampire?" He retorted. She looked away, a small smile playing at her lips.

"I'm going to get this evidence over to the lab and call in Angela. When you get hold of Peter Wheeler we'll see if she can initially confirm that it was him who did the drawing from a sample of his writing," Brennan said, beginning to bag up the pad.

"There'll be samples of his writing elsewhere – look," he opened another drawer and pulled out a checkbook and a diary containing dates for appointments and addresses. Brennan nodded, bagging them as well.

"I'm going to go and track him down," Booth said as they both began to walk to the stairs. "First stop's the school."

She nodded. "Be careful," he closed the back door behind them. His eyes caught hers for a second and she drew herself closer and moved so that she could place a tentative kiss on his lips. She saw the confusion dwell in his eyes, and hoped it was only temporarily there.

"I'll give you a call when I know more," he said. "I'll phone Cullen and ask him to send me Laherne or someone."

"Okay," she replied, a little hurt that he had not made more of her gesture. He smiled, a little forced, and then left her to get in his car.

She started the engine slowly, thoughts swimming round her head like piranhas, just waiting to eat her. She briefly closed her eyes and willed herself to focus as she drove off, back to the lab.

-----------------------------------

Booth started up his car, aware of a burning patch on his lips where she had pressed against them. He wondered how she could flick from being so warm and responsive when they were making love, to being cold and running off and now kissing him again, even if it was briefly. He shook his head, trying to wake himself up from the thought and flicked the CD player on.

Foreigner. I want to know what love is. He turned it off. The world was against him.

The journey to the school didn't take long, especially as he didn't bother to stop at any red lights, driving through them. The roads were almost empty – it was heading toward midnight – and the neighbourhoods he drove through weren't the type to have people up and about late at night anyhow.

The school was a blackened mass, even against the dark night sky. The gates were locked, and the playground was eerily empty of almost anything moving. A single swing rocked in the gentle breeze, giving the sense that a child had just gotten off it, and it hadn't yet become inert. For a brief second Booth wondered if it was somehow Thomas Dyer, returning to enjoy some of the playtimes that had been taken away from him and he felt the anger inside him grow into a giant of fury.

The gates hadn't been entered, and he could see a security guard at one side of the school, now heading over to him.

"Seen anybody?" He asked, flashing his badge.

The guard shook his head. "Nothing," he answered. "You got the bastard yet?"

"Almost," Booth replied. The guard nodded.

Booth backed away, the building was too quiet and too still, and he supposed that Wheeler would have expected someone to have come there for him. Where would he go where no one would think to look?

Then Booth had an epiphany; Valerie Sanderson's house. He would most likely have a key, or at least know where she kept one. Booth sped back to his car and jumped in, putting his foot down and making his way through the desolated neighbourhoods back to the house of the teacher.

The rain had dulled to a mere trickle, but the drops still reflected of his headlights, making it seem as if he was driving into a waterfall of gold. The sound of water rushing could be heard as he drove through small puddles that had collected on the newly resurfaced road; the tarmac used not being particularly adept at draining water. Mrs Sanderson's street was almost intensely dark, the street lamps having not come on. Her light in the living room still shone, so he could not deduce whether Wheeler was actually there of not. He wondered if the clothes of the boys were in her house or elsewhere. They would have more thorough search later, once they had managed to detain Wheeler.

He parked the car a distance away from the house, not wanting to alarm his target with the sound of the engine. He approached quietly, keeping in the shadows, his eyes searching for movement in the house. He could be wrong – Wheeler might not be there at all, he could have had somewhere else to hide out, waiting for his get away. But Booth had the sneaking suspicion that he was in there, somewhere, probably over confident and reckoning that they would never think of looking there, particularly if he had discovered that they had taken Valerie Sanderson on for questioning.

He ducked down, and raced up the driveway, keeping to the shadows at the sides that had been made by the bushes that needed trimming. A small gate separated the front of the property from the back. He judged it and quickly assessed how much effort it would take to vault it silently. It wasn't something he hadn't had to do before.

Clearing it easily, he stayed within the bushes, crouching down and shifting until he had a good view of the back of the house. Whoever was in there – if there was anyone in there –hadn't had the sense to draw the curtains, which made Booth wonder if they were panicking and not thinking clearly. He remained still, barely even blinking. His heart had slowed, practised as it was in these situations when he was stalking someone out, and the only sound was the light fall of the rain and the soft breeze that occasionally rustled through the tree.

Booth waited patiently, setting himself a certain amount of time before he concluded that there was no one there. That time was nearly up before Booth saw the slight movement of a shadow. Becoming alert and wishing desperately for a pair of binoculars he focused his eyes onto the bedroom window where he had seen the distortion and studied. Peter Wheeler's face appeared at the window staring out at him. Booth wished he'd gone through with what he'd told Bones and phoned Cullen for back up, he knew he could not risk phoning now. Wheeler seemed to be scanning the large, landscaped garden, searching for something. Booth felt anxious. He wanted Wheeler to go so he could make his phone call and get some men around here, taking Wheeler in before he could make an escape out of the area.

An owl hooted from the tree behind Booth and Wheeler looked in that direction. The two men made eye contact and Wheeler disappeared from the window.

Booth pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Cullen, informing of what was going on in a few short words. He'd positioned himself between the gate, waiting to see which way Wheeler ran and preparing to follow him. The waiting continued, and no sign of him occurred. Booth began to feel impatiently worried. Either he had missed him, or Wheeler was simply staying put, confident that they didn't have enough to arrest him with.

The sound of several cars roaring down the street broke the silence, followed by a series of footsteps up the driveway. Booth turned his back, looking at the forthcoming melee, and at that moment heard almost soundless footsteps running behind him.

He was wrong sided with the fence, having to leap over it to get back into the garden. He called out to Laherne who he had already seen dashing up the drive and set off after Wheeler, seeing his shadow as he darted across the garden, into the darkness of the shrubbery that had switched its favours from Booth to the wanted man.

Booth attempted to catch him up, reaching the back of the long garden, narrowly avoiding a foot in the pond. There was no sign of him. A fence separated the garden from the one back to back with it, but it would have been no difficulty for a small child to have cleared quickly.

Booth stopped, any more sign of movement or car engines drowned in the race of footsteps behind him.

Cullen looked at him, his expression asking the questions.

"He's gone," Booth said in answer.

Cullen nodded. Booth noticed Bones behind his boss and his attention was automatically drawn to her. She came to his side, looking up at him with big eyes that he wanted to drown in and ignore the rest of the world, and wondered if he's be able to do that later.

"Booth," she called to him, bringing him back to earth. "They've arrested Valerie Sanderson for the murders of the two boys and the kidnapping of David Matthieson," she informed him.

Booth looked at her, his turn for his eyes to grow wide with surprise. "Wheeler?" He asked.

"He's her accomplice, or so she says," Bones informed him. "Laherne was interviewing her – she confessed, then just stopped saying anything."

Booth nodded. "Right, let's go," he said, taking off again across the garden.

"Where to?" Brennan asked, following his closely, her hair bouncing up and down with the breeze and the movement of the fast walk.

"A river, where it all started."

* * *

_Right people, you know what makes me tick (except for Danny Messer, and thank you to those people who are sending him to me! I can't wait!). REVIEWS! Thank you to everyone who had taken the time to review, may you have sweet dreams containing whoever you'd like to be in them. __To all those who haven't sent me a smiley yet - hey! I know you're out there, lurking behind that coffee cup, pretending that you don't have to review! _

_Us Brits get to see Two Bodies in the Lab tomorrow.So I'll be oozing in the fluff that is Bones and Booth. _

_Eldred again says hi. He's worked very hard in a short period of time today. It's all those fruit smoothies._


	18. Chapter 18

**_A/N: Apologise for the length of this chapter. It's much shorter than usual, but it came to a natural break so I thought I'd leave it there. It's also quite late over here - a lot of tonight had been spent watching Bones - doing research, naturally._**

**_Anyway - let me knwo what you think, and I'll update tomorrow with a nice, fluffy chapter. We're getting pretty much to the fluff bit now..._

* * *

**

Chapter 18 – The Catch

Brennan clung onto the door handle as they swerved round another corner at breakneck speed, holding her breath momentarily. What was a slight shower had increased to a pounding down pour, and they were now heading to possibly the place she least wanted to be; another river.

"Booth, if you're heading to the Huyana River you're going in the wrong direction," she pointed out.

She heard a chuckle erupt from him. "I'm not, Bones. Wheeler was going to take a group of children to the Sanuye River. My bet is that he's gone there. He'll have another hide out. The Sanuye is a popular fishing spot and there are huts pretty much up and down the stretch that's used. He'll be there."

"How can you be so sure?" She asked, feeling worried that going off Booth's hunches might cost them more than they would gain, although they had nearly always been right in the past.

"If I'm not, Cullen will have sent people out in enough directions to get a hold of him somewhere," he gave her a knowing smile. "But I am right, Bones, trust me."

"I do trust you, Booth," she said, knowing the words had more than one meaning.

"Good. It's about time you realized," he answered quietly. He was silent for a second or two before picking up the conversation about the case. "My theory is that on this little trip Wheeler had planned, he was going to select another child, who maybe wouldn't come back. It could have been easily done. That's what makes me think he had stuff set up here in preparation, maybe another tub and cleaning fluid."

"How does Mrs. Sanderson fit into this?" Brennan asked.

"You'd better tell me what went on," Booth replied, his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as they went round another precarious band in the road.

"Cullen and Laherne interviewed her. Laherne drove me to Valerie's house after you had called and basically said that she had told them she had instigated the murders, using rat poison to cause them as much pain as they had given her. From how Laherne told it, the three children had been trouble for her, and she wanted to get rid of them. Apparently she thinks that she's saved the country the money it would have spent in keeping them in jail," she explained.

"How did she know Thomas?" Booth asked. "He was never in her class."

"He was a problem at playtimes. That was the last thing she said before she stopped speaking," she told him.

Booth's face grew grim. "I'm sure many teachers are plagued with children that cause them to lose a little bit of their sanity every day, but I doubt any of them have considered actually going through with murder," he reasoned.

Booth swung the car into a pull in point on the road, switching off the engine. Brennan looked out of the window at the pouring rain, the waning moon hidden behind clouds and unable to shed any light.

"Do you have a good idea of where to start to look?" She asked Booth, who was now prodding around in his trunk.

He shrugged. "The fishing huts, I guess." He slammed it shut and handed her a large waterproof jacket. "This'll stop you from getting more soaked."

"What about you?" She asked in concern.

"I won't melt," he responded, not making eye contact with her.

"Booth!" She snapped quietly. "I'll be fine!"

He glared at her. "Bones, just wear the goddamn thing!" She looked at him, knowing that she shouldn't be so stubborn, she didn't ned to be where he was concerned, and gave in, putting on the oversized garment. He laughed softly when he saw her, and rather than snap at him for making fun of her, she found herself smiling back.

They trekked around trees that were in what could have been described asa bog, the density of branches shading the ground from the sun, stopping the water from evaporating as it had done in other places. Large, heavy drips from branches plodded onto her waterproof, and she felt glad that Booth had given it to her. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was now saturated, more concerned with finding Wheeler than anything else right now.

It didn't take long before they came into view of the Sanuye River. It ran faster than the Huyana, and was deeper and narrower. There was no way they would be trying to wade through it. Booth directed them to the right, following the marshy bank along, to where she could just make out the shadows of the fishing huts in the distance.

She stopped and waited for Booth to catch her up. He had lingered behind, examining something while she had been taken with the river and the view.

"We got footprints – fresh ones," he said, flicking off the flashlight he was carrying.

"It doesn't mean they're Wheeler's," she said doubtfully.

"I know," he answered, stepping up the pace. "But my gut says they are." She walked along side him, matching his stride with hers, keeping up with him all the way. The tension between them still simmered, even what had happened a few hours ago in the lab hadn't cooled them, if anything it had upped the stakes as now there was even more left unsaid. She shot a glance at him, and wondered if he was too focused on the case to be thinking about her and what had happened.

"More footprints," he observed. "The same ones too," he picked up speed and began to jog along in the wet ground, Brennan followed him, knowing that she would probably follow him anywhere, if she managed to squash the claustrophobiac in her.

They moved passed several huts, away from the river and back into the trees. She was reminded a little of the hut by the Huyana, where they had found the Compound 1080, and Booth had injured his leg, bringing about their first kiss.

"Who owns this huts?" She asked him, glancing at him and feeling a thrill go through her at the sight.

"Private owners. Some may be rented. If we'd have had time for a check I would bet that Wheeler owns one of these," he asnwered, keeping his voice low.

There was something different about this terrain though, compared with the other river.It hummed with a wariness that she didn't understand, a sense of worry and anticipation hung from the branches along with the leaves, rather like a snake waiting for its prey.

Booth had raced slightly ahead of her now, and was now stopping at a hut, newer than the one at the other river. There was no window for this one, and obviously he wasn't about to hang around, studying it for evidence. A foot went up and slammed into the door, pushing it open immediately. Brennan hoped that Booth's intuition was working well and this wasn't the property of someone other than Wheeler, else they would have questions to answer in the morning.

She entered, the load crash of the lock breaking having stopped resonating in the air, and silence falling heavily down on them. She watched where Booth's flashlight shone, following the light as it walked the room. She saw pictures of the mouthless man tacked up to the walls, along with a photograph of Wheeler and Valerie Sanderson. Wet footprints that had not dried out were still imprinted on the floor, showing that someone other than them had been here before and not that long ago either.

In a corner, as Booth had predicted, was a small tub, a barrel. There was nothing to drain the cleaning fluid from this one, but Brennan figured that Wheeler would have just emptied it into the river.

"There's Wheeler's work bag," Booth pointed out, shining the flashlight on the item. "That's what he's come to drop off – possibly pick something up as well."

"Why come here, I don't get it?" Brennan looked at her partner.

"It's the chase. This guy likes to be chased. It's how he gets his kicks. Phoning Cullen – why bother doing that? He has to prove that he is smarter and can avoid being captured. He would know that we'd eventually end up here at some point, but he'd have probably wanted it to have been a bit later on," Booth shone the light near to her face so he could see her. "I hope you weren't planning on taking any holidays anytime soon, Bones," he said.

"I wasn't," she shugged.

"Good, 'cause I think once we're holding Wheeler in custody for murder, then we'll have a few more bodies for you to look at," Booth said, not looking at her. He had begun to open the bag.

"You're thinking of his wife and son?" Brennan crouched down next to him, their thighs almost touching as she shared his light, looking into the bag with him.

"And probably one or two others along the way," he pulled out a jar identical to what had been found at the fishing hut at the other river. "He was gonna take another kid. Everything's set up here for it," Booth stood up.

Brennan looked around her, having the strangest feeling that they were being watched. She caught Booth's eye in the dim light, standing up to nearly his height.

"Booth?" She queried, sensing that something was not right.

"He's watching us," Booth whispered. She saw him go for his gun and then step in front of her. She heard a sound from outside that seemed to support Booth's assumption. She kept close behind him, feeling a little nervous. She knew she was more than capable of handling herself, having trained in three different martial arts, but the security of having Booth there was, well, nice. There was nothing left to prove to him; he knew she was capable of looking after herself, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy having someone who wanted to look after her, did it?

He pushed the door open and left the hut, moving his hand to keep her back. She didn't remain in the hut. For one, she knew that Booth was particularly pissed off with this guy, and when he caught him he would be liable to let his temper explode a little more that he should.

She saw him turn round and glare at her for not following his instructions; she shrugged and saw him shake his head, a smile tipping at the corner of his mouth. Then the sound of a branch crunching caught their attention, and both their heads turned to their right, away from the hut. Booth seemed to freeze, his eyes everywhere as he hunted for the sight of who ever and whatever had made the noise. He began to edge forward, and Brennan became aware of his noiseless feet heading over to the copse of trees.

Then she saw movement, and heard feet travelling fast over the dead leaves that had not yet completely disintegrated. Branches were snapped and crunched and Booth took off, his solid frame bursting through the air.

She followed behind, managing to keep in the direction in which Booth was travelling, but not trying to keep up. Her foot got caught in a root and she stumbled, falling over. She pulled herself up, aware that searing pain was running up her leg from her ankle, but knowing that she had to get to Booth. She had decided on more than one level tonight that she was not going to let him get away from her.

Stubbornness furrowed her brow as she ran on, still able to hear the sounds of footsteps. She saw another flash of movement and ceased her travels, freezing, watching. The body near to her had stopped, she could see his chest rising and falling with each breath. Wheeler hadn't realised she was there, he had been too busy concentrating on Booth to think about where she had gone, or maybe he had just assumed that they had stayed together.

She waited for what seemed an eternity, but in reality was only a few seconds, the throbbing in her ankle nearly making her gasp out loud. She took a stride, rounding the bush that was shielding her, keeping her eyes focused on Wheeler. She moved almost silently, glad of the rain and the force at which was falling and banging down on the ground and leaves, helping to mask her movements as she stepped closer to him.

The back of his head was in view just a few feet away. Even if he turned around now she was close enough to speed up and kick him, hopefully taking him down. She moved closer, her heart pounding so loudly she imagined it could be heard all the way down the river bank.

He turned his head round and they both stood still for a split second. She saw a look of surprise and fear on his face as his foot went up, about to run out of the way. She was quicker, her reflexes and brain more supple and agile and within half a second her leg was raised and she round house kicked him with all the force she could muster, making up in strength what she lacked in style, and ignoring the pain from her ankle.

He was off balance and toppled like a felled tree. She booted him again out of frustration, making him roll onto his stomach. Sitting on his back she grabbed both of his wrists, moving the heel of one shoe into the base of his neck, pushing his face further into the wet soil.

"Booth!" She hollered at the top of her voice. "Seeley!" Footsteps came into her hearing, and she turned her head to the direction of them.

"Bones," she heard back. Booth came into her line of vision. "I see you've found our friend." Booth took a set of handcuffs from his belt and moved to Brennan's side. The heat coming from him was almost palpable, and she found herself revelling in it.

"Where were you?" She reproached as he moved her slightly to snap on the cuffs.

"Watching," he grinned.

She glared. "You saw what was going on?"

He nodded, she moved from her position on Wheeler's back as Booth began to pull him up. "You got there first. If I had closed in he would have heard me. Besides, as you keep telling me you can look after yourself. If he had been armed, or tried it back with you I had you covered," she looked to where he had replaced his gun. "But I had no doubts that you wouldn't get hold of him."

She realised that she was in love.

"Right, Peter Wheeler," his tonechanged in depth. "I'm arresting you for the murders of Patrick Kearney and Thomas Dyer, as well as the kidnapping of David Matthieson. And I'm pretty sure that we'll be discovering some other things about that sweet little past of your that'll have the jury calling for your number to come up," Booth shook the man slightly, giving him the dubious grin designed to annoy whoever was looking at it.

Wheeler glared up at him, his look cold.

"You got caught, Wheeler. I guess you weren't quite smart enough. What was the problem? Did you not get into teacher training when you wanted to? Couldn't pass the tests?" Booth laughed. "Bones, could you call Cullen and let him know that we've apprehended the suspect?"

She nodded, her hand mooching into Booth's back pocket where she knew he kept his cell. She felt him flinch at her touch. He was holding Wheeler against a tree, pinning him to the bark so he was unable to make a move. She knew that he would be fighting the urge to hurt Wheeler andthat the case, with it involving children, had particularly gotten to him, but he was too well trained to do something as impulsive as hurt the man.

He had saved his impulsions for different circumstances.

She felt a dull ache inside of her as recollections of just a few hours ago rose inside her mind as she listened to the ring of Cullen's phone. When he did answer, he voice shook a little, knowing, almost certain, of what would come next.

* * *

_Iapologise for the length of this chapter, it just seemed to break nicely there, and I have spent a good deal of the night 'researching' Bones by watching Two Bodies in the Lab._

_There's mucho fluff coming up, if you have any burning desires that need to resolved please feel free to review and make your suggestions!_

_Otherwise, just review - let me know what you think - good, bad, poor - tell me, just press that little button down there._

_Sarah x_


	19. Chapter 19

**_A/N: Thank you to all of those who have reviewed, an oversized clone of Seeley Booth/Angela Montengro is on its way to you. Thank you for all the Danny Messers; they are currently lined up in my house awaiting attention. My other half is being very supportive about this._**

**_This is the penultimate chapter, by the way. It was going to be 21 chapters, but it seems to be fitting itself nicely into 20._ **

Usual disclaimer applies. (See previous chapters.)

* * *

Chapter 19 – Talk

Booth saw Bones sat on a chair waiting for him to come out of the interview room, a look on her face than told him she still wasn't happy that she hadn't gotten to do a preliminary interview with Wheeler. Cullen had insisted that he went in with Booth, as he had been present at the interview of Valerie Sanderson and wanted to see how the two stories matched up, and after taking one look at Bones' face, Booth had thought it best that she go home and rest, but she hadn't. The stubborn woman had stayed there waiting for him, although he must admit, it had given him a reason to get through the interview.

Sanderson had broken down once she heard that Wheeler had been arrested, confessing that she had hoped he would get away. She had implicated Wheeler in assisting her, but claimed quite proudly that it had been her idea and her motive behind it. She had shown, from what he had heard from the taped interview, that she was remorseful for getting caught, but not for what she had done.

Booth didn't doubt that she had provided the motive, and even the brains behind the scheme, but he was certain that Wheeler had needed no encouragement in carrying out their plans.

Wheeler had been a difficult suspect to interview. He had begun with congratulating them on having caught him, then went into a polite mode that had made Booth wish he could have gone back a few years and punched him one.

However, Booth had sat there, composed, arms folded against his chest, sharing the questioning with Cullen. Wheeler, so far, had not given them a straight answer, merely referring to the evidence he knew that they had, which had actually mounted up; the boys' clothes having been discovered in Valerie Sanderson's house, put in a bin sack and badly hidden under the bed, a fact that Booth had been informed of just before entering the interview room. Wheeler had tried to suggest that the clothes had been there as Valerie was washing them as they had been in lost property for some time, and she was going to give them to one of the poorer families. The excuse had been torn apart by both Booth and Cullen. It had seemed that Wheeler and Sabderson had never expected to have come under suspicion, and had taken very few measure to actually cover their tracks.

He had asked Wheeler about the drawings, curious as to why he had given them to the boys before they took them.

"Don't read too much into things, Agent Booth," Wheeler had laughed, knowing that there was no way out for him now and becoming willing to give more information. "It scared them; it was a mystery to them. Thomas Dyer actually brought the picture to me after I had left it for him and asked me to help him find who did it," Wheeler had smiled, almost as if he was recalling happy memories. Booth felt slightly sick at how Wheeler had abused his position of trust.

"Why did you help her?" Cullen had inquired, once Wheeler's and Valerie's stories had begun to tally.

"Why not?" He smiled. "Why would I not want to help someone who I had worked with and grown fond of over the course of years. Valerie was a good friend. She was in pain. I wanted to help absolve her of that pain. It's what friends do," he had looked from one agent to another, giving them an empathetic smile.

Booth blinked heavily, as if he could not believe what he was hearing. He glanced at Cullen who was wearing a similar expression, and let out a bemused half laugh.

"I do believe, Agents, that I am entitled to a lawyer, and that I have certain rights. I am sure one of those rights is to be able to sleep, so if you would please allow me to do so," Wheeler had said, his voice perfectly calm and affable. "And in the morning I should like to see a lawyer. I have her card in my wallet which you have taken off me."

Booth had stood up, Cullen had nodded.

"You can have as much sleep as you want, Wheeler," Cullen had replied. "You won't be going anywhere."

"Please, call me Peter. I'm sure we'll be seeing a fair bit of each other in the next few days. Better that we're on casual terms," Wheeler said, once their backs had been turned. A guard had stepped forward to re-cuff the man and return him to his cell.

Booth swung round, fists clenched. His hands dropped to the table that separated him and the murderer. "Look, you son-of-a-bitch slime ball. I don't want to call you anything, because, frankly, you aren't worthy of a name, you're not even human." Booth had allowed himself one more glare and then walked out of the door, proud of himself for not actually having laid a finger on even a hair on Wheeler's head.

Bones was the antidote to all that had happened in there. She looked tired – it was now past four am – and pale, her hair dishevelled and her eyes half closing with sleep. He felt a longing for possession and a yearning to call her his, but after her running off again he wasn't sure whether that would be allowed. Her eyes opened at his approach, offering him something between a smile and a glare. She stood up, waiting for him to get to her, and they paced off in silence down the corridor, toward the exit, toward home and sleep.

He climbed in his car beside her. "I think we'll be off down to Wheeler's previous home town after this ball thing on Saturday," he said, breaking the quiet. "Cullen's got some of the local PD to begin investigating the disappearance of his wife and kid, but we'll required to go too, especially if any bones are found."

He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye and there was silence for a few minutes as he began the drive to take her home. "Booth, is it okay if I come back to yours?" She asked him out of the blue.

He swerved badly, almost missing a tight bend in the road due to the surprise she had just given him.

"It is, but if you're gonna run out on me again then…" he warned.

"I won't do," she assured quietly.

"Okay," his mind began to think over the possibilities that could happen with her at his place, any sign of tiredness now shot away by hope.

He pulled up onto his drive, the silence of the neighbourhood seeming soothing and peaceful. Bones had already stepped out of his SUV, limped slightly up the drive and was at his door, impatiently waiting for him to let her in.

"You're ankle's still bad – did you get anyone to look at it?" He asked, inserting the key into the lock.

She shook her head. "It's sprained. It needs rest and maybe strapping up, but it would be a waste of someone's time to have it looked at."

Booth shook his head at her as if she was a petulant child. "If that had been me, then you would have taken me to the emergency room kicking and screaming."

"It's really not that bad, Booth," she reassured him, although he figured the words were probably more to stop him from berating her than to console him.

He pushed the door open and let her through first. She immediately went to the kitchen, and to the kettle.

"Make yourself at home, Bones!" He called, locking the door securely. A blaze of sarcastic laughter came back his way.

He ran upstairs to change, reappearing in old jeans and a t-shirt. He found her sat at his kitchen table, two cups of coffee in front of her. He joined her, noticing that the tension between them had resumed. He remembered the feel of her body against his and he hoped that that wouldn't be the last time.

She was tapping her fingers on the table, and he figured that she was waiting to say something. He couldn't resist a smile at the vision in front of him, obviously a little nervous, and slightly impatient.

She caught his eye, and her lips gave him a flirtatious smile that made him melt. He grinned back, the tension between them altering from uncomfortable to charged with anticipation.

"I'm sorry for leaving you before after, we, you know," she looked at her fingers.

"I'm sure you know a hundred different ways to name it," Booth said, deciding not to make it that easy for her. "Are you sorry it happened?"

"No, not really," she answered, then diverted her eyes back to him. "Angela would say it's been a long time coming."

"Angela is probably right," his hand reached out for hers and he felt a jolt of excitement sear through him. "I can't handle you running off every time, Bones," he told her quietly.

She nodded. "I know. By the time I had gotten half way to my home I felt like an idiot. I can't tell you that I'm going to be easy, Booth, and that whatever demons I have will just go away, but I will try and fight them."

He smiled at her sincerity. "Bones, I just need to know that you're with me here, that I'm not chasing rainbows. It's taken Tessa to make me see what was right under my nose…"

"I could have told you where your mouth was," she interrupted. He was stirred from the moment by the comment and the flashing eyes teasing him.

"Was that a joke, Bones?" He laughed, leaning into her, his finger pointing at her teasingly. "You told a joke?"

She grabbed the finger. "Keep pointing that at me, and you'll be a metatarsal short," she threatened.

He laughed, and found that they were edging closer to each other. The light shining in her eyes reminded him of when they had been lip synching to foreigner in her apartment before he had been blown away by her fridge. She seemed so alive, even at stupid o'clock in the morning after one of their most gruelling cases yet.

He leaned in a little further, touching her lips with his and feeling her respond to him with a force that was deliberate and intimate. The kiss grew deeper, her hands moved over him, and he wondered if he had fallen into heaven or a dream world.

-----------------------

Brennan found herself kissing Booth back with a passion that she hadn't really known she possessed, relaxing into his warmth as any fears seemed paralysed. She wanted this, this felt right. It had a familiar feeling about it, provided by what had happened a few hours ago, but the sense of wanting and anticipation had not died away; instead they were back with a punch.

"Bones," she heard him whisper as he pulled his lips away from hers. "As much as I liked getting acquainted in Hodgins' office with you earlier, I would like to be somewhere I could, you know, get comfy. Like a bedroom."

She smiled at him, her eyes heavy with desire and need. "Show me the way," she whispered back, feeling a little shy.

He waited for her to stand up before scooping her up in strong arms. She looked at him, giving him a glare but not fighting the action, and instead swinging her arms around his neck. She saw him smile in appreciation, and was a little surprised to realise that the claustrophobic feelings were no longer there, they seemed to have retired, at least for now, and hopefully for good.

Booth dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, which she noticed was unmade. She inhaled his scent from the sheets and grinned at him as he leant down over her.

"It's almost daylight," he growled at her, sending vibrations through every bone in her body. "We've had hardly any sleep in the past few days, and now your in my bed. What are you doing to me, Bones?"

"You could always take the couch," she suggested, gently poking him in the chest.

"Ouch, that hurt," he said, pulling a face, and taking a hand to where she had stabbed him with her nail. She felt him move so her legs were over his thighs. Both of his hands slid round her back and he lifted her so she now straddled him, sitting up. "I think you should kiss it better," he grinned.

"And where exactly does it hurt?" she asked, playing his game.

"Everywhere," he replied, giving her a mischievous grin.

"And what do I gain out of that?"

He put his head to one side. "I'll kiss you back," he offered.

She grinned. Such an offer could not be turned down.

------------------------

The sun had already crept in through the window a few hours ago, before departing and leaving a dull, cool day, thankfully without any rain. Booth's eyes opened unwillingly. No alarm clock had gone off, but still, he knew it was too early to be awake after so many days with so little sleep.

He tried to move his arm, but couldn't due to an unusual weight being on it. His eyes hovered over the weight and took in the sight of a sleeping Temperance Brennan. A smile seeped over his face, a rather smug smile with a hint of a happiness that he had rarely known. He left his arm where it was. She was deep in sleep, her eyes closed, and lips set firmly together. He would rather chop his arm off than wake her.

He wondered what she dreamt about; bones, her family, him? Or maybe she recited textbooks in her sleep – it wouldn't surprise him. He found that the thoughts had awakened him thoroughly, and his mind began to amuse itself by thinking of ways to wake her.

He was in the middle of a rather pleasant thought when he realised that one eye was staring at him. "Booth?" The owner of the eye called him. "You have a look on your face that Hodgins sometimes gets when he sees Angela."

"Really?" He screwed his face up.

"Really," the other eye opened.

"I could tell you what I was thinking," he enthused.

"Would it be easier to show me?" she grinned back, allowing him to move his arm from around her and rub it to bring it back to life.

"Seeing as you're still here, Bones, I guess it would."

------------------------------------------

She got back to the lab in the middle of the afternoon, raising eyebrows as she entered with her FBI agent. There were various things she needed to tie up before she and Booth flew to Wheeler's previous home on Sunday, and begin the investigation there. Luckily it was only Wednesday, so she had three, possibly four days to complete the work she had been doing before the body at the river turned up.

Booth came with her to her office, hands in pockets, looking a little predatorily around. She eyed him, sending her thoughts without having to speak, a way of communicating she had discovered they had while he was doing unspeakable things to her only an hour or so ago.

"You gonna tell the squints?" he said, looking a little shy. Brennan looked at him, worry in her eyes. "Hey, I'm not that bad – at least Angela likes me!"

She shook her head. "Hodgins' desk – did you neaten it up?" She remembered where their first indecent encounter had taken place.

Booth nodded. Brennan smiled. At least that was one thing that there wasn't to worry about.

"I'd better get to work," he smiled again, shifting closer to her. This was nice, she thought. She didn't feel scared, or claustrophobic, or like running away from him. She liked this. A warm feeling buzzed inside of her.

He bent down and kissed her lightly. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer, deepening the kiss.

A cheer broke the silence that had occurred. She moved back and looked to the door where Angela, Zack and Hodgins were stood, wide grins on their faces. Hodgins looked particularly triumphant.

"I do believe that I had Wednesday," he said rubbing his hands together. "That's guaranteed a few extra drinks on Saturday night."

Brennan knew there was the look of confusion on Booth's face. "Saturday night?" he asked warily.

"Yeah, your boss mentioned it, some big feebie dance?" Hodgins said, oblivious to Booth's 'this-day-couldn't-get-worse' look.

"You hate things like that," Booth said flatly.

Angela's eyebrows moved expressively. "He's met some cute little agent who's going a long, so he was more than happy to accept. I'm going as well. With Ryan," she beamed. Booth nodded. Brennan smiled, glad her friend was still happy with the man she had met during a visit to a friend in Alabama.

"So you won the bet?" Brennan asked, trying to take Booth's thoughts away from the rest of the 'squints', as he so charmingly called them, and onto something else.

"Yeah, it's been a pretty big pool. Zack had Saturday," he patted Zack's shoulder in false comfort.

"I figured you and Agent Booth may have reconciled your differences by then," he shrugged.

"We were a little early, Zack," she smiled at her assistant.

"Or a little late, depending how long you've watched you two swimming round in a river called denial," Angela said, mock annoyance in her expression.

"Anyway," Hodgins thumped his chest. "You guys have won me a few bucks, so thank you."

"No, Hodgins, thank _you_," Booth smiled.

"What for," Hodgins looked slightly worried. Booth grinned, his hand tapping Brennan's desk. "That was you, wasn't it. You," he pointed at the pair of them, "were responsible for the state my desk was in this morning."

Angela started to laugh. Zack looked like he had missed something and Hodgins walked out.

Brennan looked at Booth. Booth shrugged. "Somethings have just gotta be said."

* * *

_I'm in shout out mode. I know this is not technically allowed, and I do try my bestest best to reply to reviews, but some people review anonymously, so I don't get to say thank you._

_Thank you to; Foxie Roxie, Justawriter,_ _live2rite (hello fellow Stockportonian!), Ava Leigh, toomanyobsessions, Sonnet Lacewing (you realise I will be on tenterhooks until you get them together!), Elizabeth Theresa, omg (love your pseudonym, WOATCAPIITON, sidleidol03, SpookyAnne, pagan-seijou, azaratheangel, Eliza's Faith, Ryan628, Miss Deeds, FreeBird06, Ryalin, Harley11, Pandora7, NYPD55Chick, gossipgirl1031, obsessedwithspike, lilbit, estreyastar, caroline, jemb, Reader, Always Angel 87, wolfmyjic, lime63, Hawkeye Girl, Natz, and all the rest of you who have been_ _reviewing near enough every chapter. When Eldred wasn't in the mood, we just looked at your reviews and it motivated us again, so thank you many times over._

_There's one chapter left - the FBI ball..._

_Please review - I still need inspiration, and I am a bit of a review whore._


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

* * *

**

Epilogue – Denial

Temperance Brennan smoothed down the material of the long black dress she was wearing, a rather dangerous slit creeping far enough up her thigh to make her a little worried. She had bought it with the persuasion of Angela, assuring her that it would do her figure justice, and that she had to have something new seeing as it was her first official 'date' with Booth.

Since Wednesday morning she had only gone home to collect clean clothes and check that everything was alright in her apartment, then returning to Booth's where they had felt as if they had been together for years rather than days, although given that they had worked closely together for sometime, it seemed obvious to her that they shouldn't have to undergo the usual discomfort in a new relationship.

Angela now stood next to her, looking at them both in the mirror. Her dress was to the usual Angela standard, guaranteed to knock most men's eyes out. But for a change she wasn't interested in most men, just the one this time.

"I've told Ryan to pick me up here," she smiled, excitement bubbling in her voice. "I can't believe that I've been with him for so long and neither of us has gotten bored yet," she turned slightly so she could check out the back of the dress. "This is the first guy since Kirk that I've liked like this," she confided.

Brennan smiled, saying nothing. Angela was clearly sold on this guy, a fact that seemed to have rubbed the edge off her excavating Brennan for all the gory details about her and Booth.

"You look just amazing, sweetie," she said, looking at Brennan. "Booth won't know what hit him."

Brennan shook her head. "Nothing's going to hit him," she said, looking puzzled.

"It means he won't believe how gorgeous you look," Angela informed.

Brennan nodded, her ears pricking at the sound of a car engine pulling up outside her home. She moved across to the window and peered outside, seeing Booth step out of what she could only describe as a classic car. Angela pressed her nose nearer to the glass, looking at the vehicle.

"Wow," she said. "I don't know what looks more impressive, Booth or the car."

Brennan laughed, watching Booth as he locked the car and headed to her door, knocking hard even though she had given him her key back once she had borrowed it to retrieve the one she had left inside. She appreciated that he respected her space, and he had told her earlier – he wanted this to be their first 'proper' date.

Angela followed her to the door to greet Booth, standing a little away, watching them as they admired each other, Brennan going a little flushed as she felt Booth's gaze.

"You look…" Booth stared at her. Brennan hoped that the following adjective would be a positive one. "Incredible." He handed her a bunch of roses, although they could have been a bunch of twigs, she was too absorbed in him to really notice.

"Thank you," she smiled, feeling Angela take the flowers from her before she dropped them.

She smiled, a little flirtatiously, liking the look she had created in his eyes. "Angela made me buy the dress," she told him.

"Then thank you to Angela," Booth said, still transfixed by the high slit in the material.

"Yes, you're welcome," Angela chirped from her vantage point a few feet away and holding the flowers, a little bemused at being ignored, but excited that they had finally gotten together.

"Shall we go?" Booth offered Brennan his arm. She took it, still smiling.

"Ange, will you be okay to lock up?" She called back.

"I think I can manage that," Angela nodded. "Somehow."

Brennan gave her a smile, then let Booth lead her out of the house into the car that stood waiting for her.

"Is this one of your projects?" She asked, remembering that he had said in the past that he like to restore classic cars.

"I wish it was. I've not had the time recently. I borrowed this from a friend," he said, opening the door for her. She slid into the seat, putting on the seat belt that looked as if it had only been fitted.

"You really look amazing," he told her, giving her a long lingering look before starting the engine.

"So do you. You tie that tie yourself or is it a pre-done one?" She put a finger to it, gently seeking her answer.

"'Course I did it myself!" he said, a little indignantly, leaning closer to her. She felt his lips softly press against hers, and her body responded in a way that she was enjoying getting used to. One of his hands began to explore the flesh that was exposed by the slit in her dress, creeping higher up to her thigh. Even in the small space of the car she felt herself letting go. Being close to Booth was something that she was now finding all too easy.

A car horn tooted behind them, distracting them from their antics. She turned her head and looked out of the rear window. A tall, brown haired man jumped out from the drivers and seat gave them a cheeky wave. She recognised him as being Ryan, Angela's latest beau, and seemingly quite a serious one too. She waved back, hearing a quite chuckle escape from Booth's lips.

"Caught red-handed," he smiled. She smiled back, her fingers moving to his mouth to remove the traces of lipstick that she had applied with her own lips. She felt teeth softly bite down on her fingers, playfully nipping them and causing her to squeal.

"Booth," she said rather huskily. He kissed the fingers and let her pull her hand back.

"When are you going to start calling me by my first name?" He asked her, turning the key and starting the car.

She laughed. In the past few days it had become a discussion point between them that they were still calling each other by their surnames, or in her case, her nickname. He argued that 'Bones' was a term of affection, and she had agreed that it did affect her, but not in the way he wanted. She had retorted that calling him 'Seeley' would make her feel uncomfortable, to which he had offered to do something that would help that, and then had shown her what that was, thus the discussion had been forgotten.

"I'll try to remember," she said, pacifying him. "But you've been Booth for so long."

"And you've been Bones for so long," he said, the car prowling down the streets toward the hotel where the ball was taking place.

"But that's not my name – at least Booth is your name," she replied, a hand placing itself on his thigh and working its way slowing up his leg. She felt the muscles tense, and a sideways glance told her that her form of combat might just persuade him to call her Tempe for the rest of the evening.

"Okay, I'll call you Temperance," he agreed. She removed her hand, knowing that if he continued they may have to find a cold shower somewhere, or at least find a quiet car park. She smiled, enjoying the effect she knew she had on him, it giving her a sense of victory she knew was acquired only through relationships like theirs.

Relationships.

Theirs.

The words echoed around her head like dancing butterflies in spring. It had only taken four nights to come to terms with their situation and finally let herself sink into it. Now her future had been lit up by the man who had aggravated her incessantly, been her verbal sparring partner and caused sparks to fly every time she set eyes on him.

They pulled up at the hotel, a valet automatically coming to them and Booth handed him the keys.

"Agent Booth," he announced. "Room 3."

"We have a room?" Brennan looked at him in puzzlement.

"We have a room, Bone.. Temperance, just like I told the good man," he replied once they had gotten out of the car.

"I haven't brought any things…" she protested.

"No, but Angela will have packed them when you left and she will be bringing them for you," he smiled, victorious.

She was quiet, unsure of what to say. She wasn't used to romantic gestures and she'd never read anything on how to deal with them. She felt Booth's arm go round her waist and leant into him, gratefully knowing that he understood her silence and what it meant.

"A thank you would do it," he whispered, leading them up the steps into the hotel.

"Thank you," she whispered back. He nodded, and she leant a little more.

------------------------------

Booth felt like he was king of the world when he walked into that room with Bones on his arm, knowing that a good number of his fellow officers there had remarked at one time or another on how they would like to have taken her out, but were a little too scared to suggest it to her. She was with him, not begrudgingly, or because they were on a case, but because she wanted to be.

He gave her another look, appreciating her slim figure and the dress that almost did it justice. He noticed that she reddened a little, under his gaze, but didn't flinch from it.

The last three days had been almost like magic. When he had gotten home she had been there, or he had picked her up from the lab and they had gone back to his. The nights had then been filled with talking, watching ridiculous things on television and eating. It had felt more like home than home had ever done before.

Cullen approached them, a small, red haired woman on his arm, who Culled looked to be faintly scared of. He realised that this was his boss's wife, the living version of the picture on the desk, which was occasionally hidden in a cupboard.

"Good evening, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," Cullen greeted them, holding out his hand to both of them in turn. "This is my wife, Claire." They nodded their hellos.

"It's good to meet you, finally," Mrs Cullen said to Bones. "I've read all of your books, and I find them superb. Do you base any of your characters on real people?"

Booth suppressed a chuckle. Bones resolutely denied that she based her characters on nothing but what her imagination came up with. However, there had been a certain character, an FBI boss, who Booth considered to be very like Cullen. He wondered if Claire Cullen had noticed the similarities.

"No, I try not to," Bones began to explain, stuttering a little. Booth dug a finger into her waist, provoking her even more. She tried to discreetly wriggle away from him, but he just clutched harder, hiding his amusement at her discomfort underneath feigned interest.

"I think your characters are very cleverly done," Claire said, after Bones had done her best to explain how she came up with the people in her books. "Especially Andrew Ryan's boss. He was very true to life!"

Booth burst out laughing as they walked away, partly at Bones' confused expression, but even more at Cullen's worried look. He didn't know if Cullen had ever read her books, but he was certain he would do now.

He spotted Hodgins wandering over to them, his arm wrapped around the waist of a petite brunette who look suspiciously like Angela, but was actually called Lydia Thorpe, an agent Booth had never worked with, and knew little about.

"Hey!" He heard Hodgins call them. He wondered just how easy it would be to enact revenge on the person who had invited the rest of the squints.

"Hodgins," he responded despondently.

"Good ball," he told them, swigging on a glass of the complimentary champagne that had been given out. "I heard you were staying here tonight," Booth wasn't sure if it would actually be illegal to kill a squint. He was certain Cullen would be willing to support him.

"It's a good thing I've already told her," Booth raised his eyebrows.

"Well, if you hadn't she'd only find out from…"

"Hey!" Another voice joined the melee. "I dropped your night bag off at reception," Angela said to Bones.

"See," Hodgins interjected in his usual manner. "Even if you hadn't told her and I hadn't have said anything, the surprise would have been spoilt by now!"

"You do know, don't you?" Angela looked worriedly at Bones.

"Booth's said that he's booked a room for us – thank you for getting my things together," Bones turned toward her friend.

"A room?" Angela raised her eyebrows. "Sweetie, I don't think this is just any room. I saw the brochure."

"Well," Booth glared at Angela. "Let's not say anymore, shall we?" he grabbed hold of her and pulled her onto the dance floor, where he could see Zack doing his best to make a move on one of the secretaries who worked for his department. Booth shook his head sadly. Zack may have a genius IQ, but he lacked any notion of how to woo a woman. He noticed Bones looking at Zack a little sadly, then at him.

"Booth…" she pleaded.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay," leaving her looking at him, he wandered over to where Zack was committing social suicide, and managed to pull his attention away, letting the secretary make a thankful escape.

"There's someone I'd like to meet," he said, feeling a mixture of pity and annoyance at the rather petulant face in front of him.

"Who?" Zack said a little desperately.

"Come with me," Booth brought Zack over to a table where a young woman with strikingly long, curly red hair was sat. "Zack, this is Kristen. Kristen, this is Zack. Zack is a genius, and very few people understand what he's talking about. Zack, Kristen also had an extremely high IQ. She may get you a little better than some of the other people here."

"Amy was getting me just fine…" Zack protested.

"I'm sure she was," Kristen interrupted, making Zack's eyes flick from Booth back to the woman. "But I'll probably get you better." Booth smiled and left Kristen to it.

"Who was she?" Bones asked when he got back to her.

"She's another agent. Has a reputation for eating men for breakfast," he grinned at his girl.

"Zack…" Bones began.

"Will have the most wonderful night of his life, and will probably learn a lot more that he would from a text book," he interrupted.

-----------------------------------

It wasn't that late when they walked to the room Booth had booked. He had seemed eager for them to get away from the rest of the crowd, who in true FBI tradition, were becoming more and more intoxicated.

Angela and Ryan had left sometime ago. He had also booked a room, and it had seemed that if the couple hadn't have retired to it when they did, then they would have gotten into trouble for indecency. Like Booth had done for her, Ryan had surprised Angela in the same way, only he had actually packed her over night bag for her. Brennan had almost been deafened by the squalls or excitement that had erupted when Angela had found out, before hiding her eyes from the resulting hot-blooded kiss.

"At least they didn't have sex on my desk," she had heard Hodgins whisper in her ear, watching her divert her eyes away from Angela and Ryan. She had turned to her colleague and glared. Hodgins had scuttled quickly away.

Booth unlocked the door to their room with a credit card like key. He had let her enter first, his hand knowing exactly where the lights were, so she figured he had already been here earlier.

It wasn't a room. It was more like a suite. A large, four poster bed took the centre stage in the main room, antique furniture stood around it, giving it an olde worlde look. A room came off it that looked over the hotel grounds, patio doors and a balcony at one end. The room contained two sofas and a small table. She paced round it, feeling Booth's eyes upon her the whole time.

"Check out the bathroom," he prompted. "This way." She followed him back through the bedroom, and ended up in a room with a spa bath, already filled with hot water and a cool bucket of champagne next to it. She looked up at him, eyes laughing.

"Are you feeling in need of a bath, Seeley?" she asked him. His mouth curled up into a smile.

"It was a little grimy on that dance floor," he replied. She felt her insides quiver at the thought of his touch. Nothing seemed to sate their desire for each other, it was an unquenchable thirst.

He stepped toward her, his hands sliding up to her shoulder where the thin straps of her dress were placed. His slid them down, exposing flesh.

"I thought you liked this dress?" she smiled, as he began to slip it from her body.

"I do," he said deeply. "But I like what's under it more."

She smiled, fingers undoing the tie, then the buttons of his shirt, then the belt. Electricity caused bumps to appear on her skin, anticipation burned inside of her and as his lips began to take over once more, she fell completely into him, anxiety and fear now totally eroded by something she was beginning to understand.

-----------------------------

Booth rolled over in the large bed, turning to face Temperance, as he was learning to call her, and investigating whether it was she who had made that banging noise. Seeing that she was still perfectly asleep he got up, pulling on one of the house coats the hotel provided in each room and made his way over to the door, where the irritating sound had come from.

He opened it and wondered if he had awoken into a living nightmare. Cullen stood in front of him wearing a pair of plaid pyjamas. Booth rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry to wake you," Cullen began.

"What time is it?" Booth said, sleep still filling his voice.

"Six thirty. I've had a call. A skeleton has been unearthed in the walls of an official's house about an hour's drive away. I need you there, along with…" Cullen poked his head around the door. "…your bone lady."

"Can this not wait?" Booth said. "When was the body discovered?"

"Late last night. The teenaged daughter let the bath overflow, bringing down a ceiling. They called someone in to repair what they could, but after tapping on a few walls to assess further damage they found a skeleton. I got the call about ten minutes ago," Cullen sounded almost sympathetic.

"We don't have to go straight away, do we?" Booth sighed. He wanted to enjoy the room and its contents. They hadn't actually managed to get in the spa bath last night, having discovered that it was nigh on impossible for anyone else to see them from the balcony, and that had been after realising that the bathroom floor tiles weren't actually that cold.

Cullen gave him a knowing smile. "I said that you would be there after midday, as you were currently engaged in another case. Oh, and by the way – the principal is also being charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice. I though you'd like to know."

Booth laughed. Maybe Cullen wasn't such a nightmarish figure after all.

He closed the door after getting a piece of paper with the details of where they were to go on it. Discarding his robe, he got back into the bed, pulling a now almost awake anthropologist into him.

"Who was that?" She asked sleepily, pressing herself against him.

"Cullen," he responded, his hands seeking out the places that he knew would make her shudder.

"What did he want?" she murmured, easing into his touch and responding with one of her own.

"Nothing that can't wait," he answered, wondering just how lucky he could actually be to finally have Temperance Brennan lay beside him, purring in pleasure – because of him.

----------------------

Later on, in the midst of rushing to pack everything up after taking a little too long to discover just how well the spa bath worked, Brennan looked up at Booth, taking in his build, features and all the characteristics that made him hers.

A feeling went through her, it was no longer frightening, or making her want to run for cover, but a settled one that was also full of anticipation, excitement and of an urge to hold on to this thing they had.

She thought of the past week, since he had interrupted her date, and wondered just what would have happened if the body hadn't have been found by the river, and if she and Booth had spent yet more time, swimming around in denial.

----------------------------------------

_Finis

* * *

_

Thanks you for reading this! It's a while ago since I wrote it now, but I still get reviews for it from time to time, so thank you if you are one of those people. I am aware of the metatarsals mistake in an earlier chapter. At the time of writing it I was too in the flow of writing to remember the correct word, so put in what I could think of, then forgot to correct it. I'm leaving it as it is for now for posterity's sake!

It's great to know what you think of a story, so please let me know! And I still get a kick out of getting reviews or being added to people's favorites. If you're looking for another Booth/Brennan story to read then I have written another - shorter one - called 'Sleeping', although there are tons of good BB stories out there!

Thanks again,

Sarah


End file.
